


A Story About Him

by JackyM



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Related, Carlos is Autistic, Carlos is Human, Carlos is a Dork, Carlos-centric, Cecil is Human, Cecil is a Dork, M/M, POV First Person, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 14:15:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 38,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13719429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackyM/pseuds/JackyM
Summary: A box of tapes from several weird years ago, documenting the findings of a scientist investigating by far the most scientifically interesting town in the United States.





	1. Tapes 1-3

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO! This is the first in what I expect will be six chapters of a fic I've been wanting to do for some time! I'm super excited to work on this not just because writing a different side to the story is fun and I love writing Carlos, but, also because I get to relisten to Night Vale's older episodes! I'm excited to really dig into this!
> 
> Enjoy this first chapter! o((*^▽^*))o

**[tape recorder clicks on]**

A friendly desert community where the sun is hot, the moon is beautiful, and mysterious lights pass overhead while we all pretend to sleep.

Welcome to Night Vale.

Huh! That is an interesting slogan. I wonder if it is indicative of anything.

OH, wait, hold on, before I say anything else, it is June 15th, 2012, 12:09 pm. I am driving into the town of Night Vale, which is a scientifically intriguing small desert town in the southwestern United States that I will be studying with my team of fellow scientists! I am keeping an audio recording of my time here, for archival purposes, among um, other, personal reasons. Archives of scientific observation are very, very important, as they can be referenced later on and give a very detailed, accurate, and precise note of scientific occurrences.

Anyways, that thing I said earlier, about the mysterious lights passing overhead. That is what the sign marking the town line of Night Vale said, when we got here. It was written in squirming ink-black letters that I think may have actually been leeches, but when I moved closer to them to inspect the sign, the letters were replaced by a sentence scrawled out in chalk that said “soon, it will all be over, worry not, fear not, remember not, it’ll all be over”, making no mention of where we were.

It was _so_ exciting! I have never seen something so weird and so scientifically fascinating happen so quickly and so unexpectedly! Night Vale is by far the most scientifically interesting city in the United States, and there are many scientifically interesting places in the United States, ones that are home to extraterrestrial beings, humanoid moths, odd seismic events, and a variety of other strange and scientifically anomalous attributes. And _none_ of those places come even close to how interesting Night Vale is, which has shown itself to be scientifically outstanding in only a few short minutes! Or at least, I believe it was a few minutes ago. The clock in my car said 12:15 when I stepped out to investigate the sign, and it said 1:34 when I got back into it, and then 5:702.6 when I checked it a second time. I have a feeling...I have a feeling that time may be weird here. Weird’s a scientific word used to describe things that behave in a way that does not conform to the scientific standards set by the community. Everything that occurs naturally can be explained by scientific facts and standards, but there are many things that occur naturally and still have no explanation. The deepest reaches of the ocean, stretching far down into the earth, are full of unsolved mysteries! So much of it is unexplored, and every time a deep-sea exploration vessel travels down into the depths of the ocean, something new is discovered, something scientists were completely unaware of before. I believe that Night Vale is like that. A place that is full of unsolved scientific mysteries, and every day will bring about a new discovery that has heretofore never been heard of before! Except, I will be able to live here and not have to go back up to the surface, and can spend every moment here!

**[distant sound of a car coming to a screeching halt]**

I think it is also may be like the deep sea because a very large isopod is blocking the road right now. Isopods eat things such as sponges and cucumbers and radiolarians, but they eat dead animal carcasses, too! I wonder if that’s why this one is on the road! Maybe it enjoys roadkill! That would be an interesting reason for an animal like that to exist here. It also makes me wonder if the pressure in Night Vale is different from the pressure of other places in the world. Oh, it would be _so_ interesting if it did! Imagine all of the impacts that would have on...on everything! Maybe I should take out my pressure gauge right now, which is a very scientific device used to measure air pressure, and measure the air pressure and see if it is different from the pressure everything generally is at. If it is any higher, it means that these sand wastes outside of Night Vale are very interesting as well, not just the town of Night Vale itself! It just radiates all sorts of scientifically mysteries that are all absolutely begging to be discovered! I thought that Night Vale was 100% the most scientifically interesting place in the United States, but I am beginning to think it may in fact be supersaturated with scientific intrigue, meaning it may reach levels even higher than 100%! Oh, this is just too exciting!!!

**[tape recorder clicks off]**

* * *

**[tape recorder clicks on]**

Night Vale, miraculously, had a lab space open for lease! It looks to be in good shape, with a good amount of space and lighting. One of the fume hoods makes a rattling sound when you get too close to it before sagging slightly and producing some kind of an orange ooze, but aside from that the rest of the facilities are amazing! David, Mark and Rochelle say that they feel very comfortable here too. It reminds me of what Rosalind Franklin said once about lab spaces, which was, “to a scientist, a lab is home. A lab is also the grocery store, the gas station you purchase nightcrawlers at, the hair salon, and the run-down barn you sit in on wistful summer nights and gaze into the terrifying sky above in while thinking about how much you really love this big, scary universe.” Most of the equipment we needed we brought, y’know, like beakers, bunsen burners, graduated cylinders, test tubes, pipettes, chainsaws, jackhammers, large strings of candy necklaces, electrophoresis units, umbrellas, and all of the meters that are needed to take various scientific measurements! I am _very_ excited to use our new danger meter! It is a black box with a red light that blinks rapidly and loudly beeps when the danger of something is very high! It has lots of buttons and wires on it to, as all scientific devices do. It will be so exciting to use! Mark is worried that it might be on the fritz, because it has been blinking and beeping non-stop since we arrived in Night Vale and he has been carrying it in his car, but I think that it might be acting this way because there is a lot of danger in all of Night Vale, and all of the events taking place here that we are going to experience! Some of those events, yes, may be dangerous, but many exciting scientific events are also dangerous. When a scientific event is dangerous, however, it means the understanding of that event will help many, many people stay away from the danger of it. If there are many dangerous events occurring in Night Vale, it may be helpful to let the people who live here be aware of that, if they do not already know. Scientific occurrences of a dangerous nature can be readily observable, such as tornadoes, but they can also not be readily observable, such as radiation. One major part of being a scientist is learning about events and telling everyone about those events, so that people may have a greater understanding of the world around them.

This lab is next to a pizza restaurant that must be very popular. A lot of people park their cars in its lot and go into it. However, a lot of people don’t come back out. I saw a man with a blue shirt get out of his yellow convertible, and some indeterminate amount of time later, a different man in nothing but a teal catsuit got into the yellow convertible and drove away. Other times, I have seen people get out of one car, and then get into a completely different car parked in the same space as the previous one. It’s definitely a really popular restaurant, called Big Rico’s, I think. Maybe I should go there, sometimes, not just to investigate the strange occurrences in the parking lot that I have observed but also to investigate the pizza they have.

I got to thinking, just now...did we ever actually call ahead of time to lease this lab? I remember thinking when we drove into town that the lab we rented out was by some pizza restaurant. When he arrived, a large red sign that said “LEASED” was plastered over its previous “FOR LEASE” sign, and I found an envelope in the glove box with a set of keys and a letter from the building’s owner. But...did I actually call the owner and ask? Or did Mark or Rochelle or David? I should ask them and then thank them for being proactive, which is the fifteenth thing a scientist needs to be.

**[tape recorder clicks off]**

* * *

**[tape recorder clicks on]**

We held a town meeting today! We wanted to tell the members of this community why we are here, what we are hoping to accomplish, and other aspects of our being in this town. I do not know how happy the citizens of Night Vale are with our being here, though. In general, they seem very averse to people who are not from here. There was a lot of shouting of the word “interloper” that lasted for...several minutes, I think, although with the way I am beginning to understand time here, it may not have been several minutes, and could have been several hours. When it finally quieted down, I was able to talk to them, and ask them some questions about their town, to which they all answered with “you’ll get nothing from me, interloper!” and started chanting “turnips” until someone else changed the word being chanted. I did not get any answers, or questions to answer, but I suppose it makes sense that people in a fairly insular place would be wary of an outsider. And, it is...it is not the first time I have felt out of place somewhere, like it was not my home, but someone else’s. Sometimes, feelings are very cutting, but they are so familiar, the amount of hurt you feel doesn’t register as strongly as it might ordinarily. And, in any case, I do not think Night Vale will become my home, necessarily, so much as a temporary place in which I will conduct a lot of research on the scientific happenings in this enthralling town.

I met someone at the town meeting, though, someone who seemed...so much more open and welcoming than the rest of the town was. He was...oh, he was _wonderful_ . He had a rich baritone voice, beautiful eyes, and...and, um, I, I don’t know, when he came up to me with a smile on his face I felt my heart start beating much faster than usual and I felt blood rushing to my face which usually does not happen. In fact, it hasn’t happened in...in quite a while. I had not felt that flustered in so long, I didn’t really know what to say to him. His name um, his name is Cecil, and I think he is the community radio host in this town. That makes sense, given the mellifluous deep temper of his voice with inflections that make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. He said that he would be willing to report any scientific findings I found to his listeners, and that I should be careful, because existence is full of horrible things capable of ending one’s existence, and isn’t science just the study of those things exactly? I was listening to him, but, um, admittedly, I was not listening at the same time. I was listening to him, and his gravelly voice, and also admiring his outfit, which consisted of a glittery tie-dyed shirt and beautiful bedazzled fringe pants. I noticed, um... _other_ things when he turned around and left. He is definitely very handsome and charismatic. It must be why he is the community’s radio host. I bet the entire town really loves him. It must be very nice, being so firmly cemented in your home the way he is. Waking up every morning and feeling at home...it is something I wish I felt, and something I hope he feels.

I...I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. I have not forgotten any of the short few minutes I spent talking to him, an amount of time that should have been minuscule but for some reason feel like they amounted to something really huge, something really scary, something really beautiful. He was...just thinking about him, I, um...well, scientifically speaking I mean, that is, according to science, I, um...I fell in love _instantly_.

**[tape recorder clicks off]**


	2. Tapes 4-7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A box of tapes from several weird years ago, documenting the findings of a scientist investigating by far the most scientifically interesting town in the United States.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW this took a little longer than I thought it would! Mostly because I ended up writing a lot more than I thought I would! @w@  
> I am VERY happy with this chapter! Honestly I feel it's some of the best I have written, so, I hope everyone reading this enjoys it! nwn

**[tape recorder clicks on]**

A strange cloud came into Night Vale today. From a distance, it looked like the sun setting, if the setting sun was made up of flickering colors and moved closer and closer with every passing moment. I wondered if this was related not setting at the correct time in Night Vale, which seems to be a relatively common occurrence. On average, it sets ten minutes later than it should. I do not know _why_ it sets ten minutes later than it should. None of the experiments that I have done, the kind where you look at several clocks slowly expressing the passage of time while holding a pipette, have offered any solid scientific data. I do not know what is going on with time here in Night Vale, but the more I learn about it, the more I think that time here is weird. Scientific jargon for “not right, not right, not right man, just...not right.”

Oh, oh, right, right, the cloud. While I am a scientist, and not a meteorologist, I know about clouds. One thing I know about them is that when drier air is mixed into the wet moisture of clouds, parts of the cloud evaporates, and they break apart. But this one does not! I have seen it billowing and moving through the sky and rapidly changing colors, like all clouds do, but I have never seen it break apart. It has taken to dropping dead animals throughout various parts of Night Vale. At first they were small, but, but now they are much bigger, and a serious risk to the people who live here! There have to have been deaths by now! I wanted to do something, anything, but the lab’s door has been blockaded by the corpse of a water buffalo and a mass of...well, something. Rochelle is still looking into what it is, but it won’t move by itself and is likely very dangerous and not worth trying to climb over. This is not a normal cloud. It is a very dangerous one. There are things I wish I could be doing. Things I wish I could tell people, about what is occurring and maybe how to best avoid it. I have run some figures, and looked at computer models, all while saying “hmm” a lot and running a centrifuge for background noise. However, none of the results I produced showed any sort of pattern for the falling of the animal carcasses. It appears to be completely random, so there is no way to best predict where they may fall. This event is one of the most dangerous ones I have ever experienced, registering on the maximum danger level on the danger meter, perhaps even exceeding it.

I am very concerned.

I started listening to Cecil’s radio show, recently, which is the best way I can phrase how I believe time passes here. Apparently radios here will turn on by themselves, even if they have not been used in years and likely don’t work, like the one in our lab, to Cecil’s show. He has such a nice voice...I understand why he is this town’s community radio host. I have never heard a voice as nice as his. I do not know if I have ever heard a sound as nice as his voice, and there have been so many wonderful sounds I have heard in my life, like the sound of the magnetic field of the planet. It is so exciting and strange hearing something so unearthly but so beautiful. That is how I feel right now, listening to Cecil’s show. He is so calm, so charismatic, so professional even when this extremely dangerous cloud dropping animal carcasses everywhere and likely causing many deaths.

But why _is_ so much of Night Vale so calm about this? Why is Cecil explaining this sort of thing with so much composure? There is so much about Night Vale that stands out, things that are abnormal but never treated as such. The reason things so unknown to science are exciting is _because_ they are unknown to science! Something about them is strange and lacking an understanding, one that science can provide. Weird things that I have seen in Night Vale in only a few short days are not weird here. They just...they just seem to be a part of the life of the people who live here. And I cannot figure out how, or why. The amount of strange yet terrifying things here that can cause harm, even death, being seen as just a quotidian aspect of life is terrifying.

**[tape recorder clicks off]**

* * *

**[tape recorder clicks on]**

I don’t know if he’s okay or not!! H-he mentioned trying to make a break for it, before his terrifying howling and likely very biologically fascinating boss somehow ended his life, but that was the last I heard before his show turned off!

I know that I do not know him well. I know I have only been in Night Vale for a short amount of time, which has recently proven itself to operate in ways that I think are different from how time operates outside of Night Vale. A short time does not suggest an intimate relationship, or even a relationship at all. But given the relative calmness Cecil has exhibited before this time, his fear right now is extremely concerning. On the scientific scale of concerning levels, I would give it roughly a 17.56 on a 56.901 scale. Which is to say, extremely concerning. If something this terrifying to the people who consider so much of this town’s strange and scary aspects normal, I am very worried. Worried for this town. Worried for Cecil, wherever he is. If he is. And also interested in observing the behaviors and space-shredding capabilities of the thing that he calls his boss, because the sounds it makes while moving and the sounds it makes out of whatever part of its body produces sounds are ones I have never heard in my life and would love to hear more of in order to better understand how something so horrible can exist. I have never met a mass of tendrils and teeth and eyes before in my life, and meeting one with such a well-established career may offer insight into its living habits. I do, however, fear that is impossible, given the nature that Cecil reported it possesses.

**[moments of silence]**

I have been pacing around in my lab for...well, I don’t know how long. Definitely an amount of time that feels lengthy, a scientific word that means “long, or drawn out” in relation to time. I wish I knew his number, or something else that might give me an idea of whether or not he is okay. I doubt I am the only person in Night Vale who feels this way. I would imagine he is a largely influential member of this town’s community and many other people are worried about his well being presently. Other people who are calling him, and making sure he is doing well, and making him feel better since I would imagine, he is incredibly stressed out from this situation. Now that I think about it, perhaps I would have heard something on the radio if he was hurt. I think I definitely would have. That must mean that Cecil isn’t hurt...doesn’t it? That is logic. Strict principles of validity that verify a fact. Logic is one of the founding aspects of science. As a scientist, I know how to think logically, and process those thoughts logically. Applying logic to what I have said just now, my assessment that Cecil is alright is most likely correct. But at the same time, I am still very worried.

Oh, Cecil.

Cecil.

I hope you are okay.

**[tape recorder clicks off]**

* * *

 

**[tape recorder clicks on]**

Something exciting happened recently!! Cecil!! This town’s handsome and well-spoken radio host! He gave me his home and cell phone number! I am so glad that he did. Um, um, for a variety of reasons, most of them scientific reasons related to how science is often used as a tool to help people and communicate information, but, also, after what happened a while back with his boss and the amount of time I spent concerned about him, I...well, I am glad that if he appears to be in a situation that my danger meter registers as particularly dangerous, I can let him know right away! Scientists do that sort of thing. He said that I could call him with scientific information that he felt his listeners would benefit from knowing about, or um, or, other, more personal matters, but I told him that I would only call for professional reasons and not personal ones, because scientists must always maintain a professional way of thinking when communicating, and in fact being professional is the fourth thing a scientist needs to be. I just _cannot_ believe he gave me his number!

Mark told me that Cecil stopped over the other day to ask me a question about the moon. He had several questions, actually, about what the moon is even doing and if anyone even knows what it is. Mark said he seemed particularly vehement, and also, upset that I was not there to talk to him. I wish I could have. It is so hard to talk to Cecil, but I find it is easier to talk to him about science.

I went to a town meeting the other day, one about a section off of a location just outside of Night Vale called Radon Canyon. There is _plutonium_ there! It is an extremely radioactive element that can accumulate in bones, elevator shafts, rubber coating, and most shoe soles. And the City Council, which takes an unimaginably twisted viscous form of several intertwined figures joined together as one, wants to remove this sign and lead-plated door that contains it! Much of Night Vale seems to agree with this decision, finding the sign to be garish and a bit of an overstatement. I have no doubt that the radioactive elements found in Radon Canyon may contribute to the strange light flickering and noises that have been occuring in rising frequencies over the past few days, the ones I have been measuring with my danger meter. While I was at the meeting, the remote monitor I was using to keep track of the danger levels in that canyon increased exponentially! Whatever horrible event is occuring there...we are out of time to prepare for it. The worst of this potentially radioactive event will occur soon, I fear.

OH, and guess what! There were real, actual pterodactyls here in Night Vale not too long ago! Pterodactyls were the first flying reptile species to be discovered! And they were likely diurnal carnivores that fed on fish. They were...um, incorrectly referred to as pteranodons, so I felt it best to let the police here (that I...believe are supposed to be a secret?) know that there is a very big difference between the two, because while they are both pterosaurs, pterodactyls lived in the Jurassic and not the Cretaceous and were much smaller, and also, neither are dinosaurs, just flying reptiles. Apparently in the event that likely caused some sort of rift in spacetime, several pterodactyls were let loose and resulted in 38 deaths, which I do not understand. Pterodactyls are relatively small, maybe the size of a gull or any other common type of desert bird. Were they more aggressive than current paleobiological information can provide suggestions about? And also, what about the time in Night Vale makes it possible for events like this to occur in the first place? How and why can a rift in spacetime just appear and cause this much damage? And is there no way to predict this, no way to try and make sure nothing like this happens again? Why are no measures taken?

And also, why did the police return all of the pterodactyls to wherever they originated from in spacetime? Dinosaurs, scientifically speaking, are some of the most exciting groups of animals to ever exist, but flying reptiles that lived at the same time as dinosaurs are also very exciting! I would have liked to have seen one up close, and watch what it does, and how it does it, and if it is anything like how science predicts. The thing about science in a world we do not live in is that it is only the best guess that can be made. It is never a completely certain fact, just a very, very good guess based on the knowledge scientists living in the world they live in now can make about a world they will never inhabit.

Also, pterodactyls were _so_ cute!! They are known as one of the most ticklish reptiles and the flying reptiles fondest of belly rubs!

**[tape recorder clicks off]**

* * *

 

**[tape recorder clicks on]**

**[a few moments of silence, followed by the sound of sighing, and the sound of bed springs for a few seconds]**

I am not in the lab right now. Though a lab is very much like a place of residence, it is not a place that it is safe to live in the way someone would live in say, an apartment, or a lean-to, or a really comfortable pit. The place I am in now is very close to the lab we are renting, however, and I have the materials here with me to conduct sudden and necessary scientific experiments if the need arises! I hope it does, because experimenting in the bedroom is one of the most exciting ways to experiment! Beds are wonderful lab tables and lab protocol states that it is much safer than say, experimenting in the kitchen or experimenting in the little crevice behind the washing machine with your eyes closed and mouth wide open.

Today has been...overwhelming. Not bad. Overwhelming. Seems like the best way to describe it. It was not a bad day...in fact, I think it was a good one. I visited Cecil, at his radio station. I have been there once before, because, well, Cecil told me where it was, and I wanted to do some investigating for materials. Y’know, dangerous materials, the kinds of material that set off danger meters. My danger meter beeped and whistled and hissed when I went into the building, and did so with profound frequency when I got to Cecil’s mic. C-Cecil had asked me to stay for an interview, and talk about the danger meter I was holding, because it is very scientific looking (it is! It has wires and pipes and tubes and a blinking red light and everything!), but I told him that the station was not safe, and something was going on with the materials there. Cecil had given me a look...not a bad one. Maybe confused. Maybe uncertain. Something I had said did not really register. I told him to evacuate until I knew what the materials might be, and left quickly to minimize exposure time and to minimize how much my heart was beating and how hot and clammy my hands felt and how um, how difficult it was to hold a conversation with a man wearing leggings like that.

When I went to his station today, I wanted to tell him about last weekend. The danger levels of Radon Canyon have been increasing for some time, and recently reached unknowable levels of danger, and I believe that they may be indicative of a large, radioactive, and catastrophic event of some sort. Last weekend, the light flickering was much brighter and much more frequent than I had ever seen it. The light it was giving off was blinding. I could barely see Radon Canyon through the flickering lights it was giving off! Additionally, the once almost unnoticeable humming noise that seemed to come from somewhere within the canyon was a loud, unbearable sort of garbled speech. When I tried to read its level of danger, the signal seemed jammed by whatever was causing that horrible, horrible noise. I gave this scientific investigation the first scientific priority. First scientific priority protocol involves putting a bright red sticker that says “HIGH PRIORITY!” on a clipboard and covering the clipboard with exclamation point stickers, so that it is very clear that whatever you are doing is extremely important. Something very strange and very sinister was occurring.

I went to Cecil’s station about this because, well, because, um, because I wanted to know if Cecil could ask his listeners if they saw anything related to the lights and noises emanating from Radon Canyon, as any new information on this phenomenon would, scientifically speaking, of course, always, would be incredibly important. And Cecil, well...you know how professional he is! He suggested I do a live interview. What he said, um, what he said was, I don’t really know that much about science, although as of late I have been very into it, and perhaps you could explain these events better than I could as a journalist. I told him I could not, and scientifically speaking bright lights and loud noises are very easy to identify, and not as difficult as radioactive materials or asteroids or venomous mammal species. And also that I was scared. Scared for him, and scared for Night Vale. He looked so nice today, in that bright pink suit with multi-colored palm tree patterns. He’s just _so cute_. Especially in the outfit he had on today. For a brief moment I wanted to ask him, what is he doing this weekend, does he have anything planned, how does he feel about dinner, but, well, h-he’s probably very busy and I did not want to impose, and, well, it’s just, it’s really very scary talking to him about personal things like that. I really am not sure how to go about it, and...I am scared.

Scared of Cecil.

Not scared of Cecil in the way I am scared for this town. But in the way that I am scared of... _this_.

This feeling.

This feeling that is so hard to define in scientific terms and even harder to define in terms completely free of scientific thought processes. This feeling of something anomalous, something unseemly. Something that makes the emotions I am feeling feel...contorted. Like a tree trunk growing around a physical object, with cells unable to perceive what other organisms with eyes or really, senses in general, perceive as obstacles so it just twists around an obstacle as the tree grows into the available space.

Doing the right thing, but the wrong way.

That...that is how I feel.

**[sighs]**

**[moments of silence]**

Oh! I found out that the flickering lights and noises were apparently coming from a Pink Floyd Laser Spectacular taking place in Radon Canyon. Or, weren’t coming from a Pink Floyd Laser Spectacular. I think that being, City Council, said that it wasn’t when the reality was that it actually was. If it was in fact a Pink Floyd Laser Spectacular and not something related to the radioactive chemicals being housed in Radon Canyon, then the situation is far more dangerous than I had hypothesized in the first place! No danger meter could pick up levels of danger that high! Maybe I should build a more advanced type of danger meter specialized for Pink Floyd concerts.

**[tape recorder clicks off]**


	3. Tapes 8-15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOO boy this chapter was a long one! I'm happy with how it came out! nwn

**[tape recorder clicks on]**

Night Vale does not experience the results of tectonic shifts! This has been an occurrence that I have been aware of since shortly after arriving here, but one that registered a gigantic 9.5 on the Richter scale was reported as having occurred earlier this week! That is the largest seismic event that I have experienced here, especially one that has an epicenter directly in the center of Night Vale! I have spent a long time looking at a seismograph, saying “hmm” and holding a vial full of an orange liquid and then going “ooooh!” a few times. I have double-checked the seismograph’s information and I know for a fact that Night Vale experiences tectonic shifts on a daily basis. But I do not understand how these shifts in the lithosphere go completely unnoticed. It is one other thing about Night Vale that has me...worried.

Cecil came by earlier today to ask about tectonic shifts...he said it had something to do with a story he would be reporting on, and he remembered that I told him about the other smaller-than-9.5-but-still-very-large earth tremors that definitely occur underneath Night Vale. I cannot believe he remembered! That was just so kind of him, to remember our conversation, and to think of me. He asked me questions about seismic activity, and why it may be that Night Vale seems so oblivious to it.

Truthfully, I did not have an answer for him, only theories after what the lithosphere of Night Vale may be like and how it may differ from the lithosphere in the rest of the world, or maybe it has something to do with the way space and time seems to operate here. I wish I had an answer for him. Not just because it was the kind of information that Night Vale would likely benefit from, but...but because he came over, and asked, hoping to understand something. I could only stutter for a few moments before avoiding eye contact completely. It is...so difficult to talk to him when there is no scientific information to discuss. Cecil said that it was okay, and what he understood of science was that it does not always provide answers. I think he asked me something else, something about what I was wearing, but I started thinking about the notes I had of seismographs, and computer models, and maybe comparing them would provide an answer! Perhaps the two are different and that is why no tremors are felt! Perhaps something in between those two recordings is exactly the cause of the lack of feelings of these events! S-so, that is what I am doing right now. I told Cecil that I would let him know if I found out anything else. I really hope I do. F-for scientific reasons, of course!

One other thing, a thing that has been worrying me lately. I believe that time may be slowing down in Night Vale. I have noticed something this week.

There’s seven days in a week, right? And twenty-four hours in each day? That adds up to 10,080 minutes in total in one week. A week ago, on Thursday, I decided to keep track of the minutes passing here, and the minutes passing everywhere else, outside of Night Vale. And then I have ran some figures, a lot of them, all of them brightly colored and full of arrows pointing to numbers and letters, and I found out that a total of 11,783 minutes passed outside of Night Vale, during that week.

I have no idea what is going on. I have never, ever experienced anything like this before! And it is worrying to me how this can be occuring in the first place! At first I believed that maybe it was just because the clocks here are weird, but...I think that the scope of the weirdness of clocks and time in general in Night Vale may be much, much greater than I had thought at first. The time, that thing we call the relative numbers of hours that have elapsed in a day, is consistently experienced at the same pace by everyone in the universe, and does not change from person to person, and from day to day. It is independent of all of that. If time is not consistent here, in Night Vale...there is something much greater, much more terrifying, at work here in Night Vale.

I need to know if anyone else knows about this dramatic time lapse. Konrad Lorenz said once that “more information is the key to feeling less weirded out by the universe because it shows that we’re all less weirded out by the universe together. Did you know that birds don’t believe in gravity? They have no idea what it is.” He was a very influential scientist!

Maybe I can call Cecil about this and ask him to tell his listeners about this and see if they experience anything similar? I do not want to bother him, of course...I am sure he is incredibly busy and gets a lot of people asking him to talk about things daily. But this is incredibly important, and--oh! Maybe I can just leave a voicemail?

**[tape recorder clicks off]**

* * *

 

 **[tape recorder clicks on** ]

I am about to call Cecil! I decided to call his home phone, since I think I’m more likely to be able to just leave a voicemail on this phone. He gave me both of his numbers, but, I, will, I think I feel safer calling this one. I just need to tell Cecil about the time in this town, and how it is slowing down, and can he tell his listeners.

**[exhales]**

90, 45, 109.5, 120, 180, 42, 64.

90, 45, 109.5, 120, 180, 42, 64.

90, 45, 109.5, 120, 180, 42, 64.

Those are my favorite numbers!

90, 45, 109.5, 120, 180, 42, 64.

I am going to call, and leave a voicemail, and it will all go over fine!

90, 45, 109.5, 120, 180, 42, 64.

90, 45, 109.5, 120, 180, 42, 64.

90, 45, 109.5, 120, 180, 42, 64.

**[exhales]**

* * *

**[tape recorder clicks on]**

_NEAT?????????!?!??!!?!?!??!?!?!?_

**[tape recorder clicks off]**

**[tape recorder clicks back on]**

_NEAT!???!??!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!_

_HE THINKS IT’S NEAT???????!?!??!?!_

T-THAT’S C-CUTE!!!!

**[tape recorder clicks off]**

* * *

**[tape recorder clicks on]**

Sorry, sorry...that was all I could really think about for um, some time. What happened was, I called his house phone, expecting him to be out on a Saturday night. B-but instead, he picked up the phone! And I had no idea that he would, so I spent several minutes (perhaps hours, time is weird here and I don’t know how many minutes it truly could have been) unable to form words. Cecil didn’t seem to know who it was, asking over and over who was calling him. Does he not have caller ID? Anyways, I told him about how 11,783 minutes have elapsed everywhere else in the world over the course of one week, over a full day longer, and could he tell his listeners about this and ask if they knew anything else about this. He seemed so interested! He said it was neat! NEAT!!! That beautiful honeyed voice telling me it was neat, I-I...erm, it was nice to hear from h-him!

Cecil mentioned meeting somewhere, and talking about this subject, which he said was fascinating! He really thought so! He even said that he was really, really into science these days! But...but I told him no, because, I wanted to start looking at the clocks here, and see if the way they are constructed has anything to do with these time lapses, and taking apart clocks is a very meticulous type of scientific procedure that requires a lot of focus.

I have several clocks from around Night Vale in the lab right now, of varying types of models. Y’know, like digital, analog, wristwatches, sundials, and the types of clocks you put on a mantle and stare at for a long time before falling asleep while staring at it. I think I should have enough clocks to be able to find out what generally links these clocks together as a part of Night Vale.

Oh, and, to make sure they are different and have a negative control, I also took apart the watch I have with me, the one I was wearing when I first came here. I have taken this watch apart several times, because it is a very scientific watch! Really! It looks like the solar system! And the solar system is so exciting! In the center of it is the sun, and all eight planets circle it, with two bright green hands for the earth representing the time in hours and minutes! I really love it, because it reminds me that there is still stability in Night Vale. That, even though things may seem terrifying and chaotic there is still something unchanging, something comforting. I can look at it and know that everything is fine, because it is something familiar that feels like home. Home. That is such an important feeling. Scientifically speaking, I think, it may be one of the most important types of feelings they are.

**[tape recorder clicks off]**

* * *

**[tape recorder clicks on]**

I have reason scientific data supporting a theory that clocks here in Night Vale are not real!!!

I took apart all of the watches and clocks I collected over the past week, and compared them to my own watch. And the interior of all of the watches of Night Vale are completely empty of gears, crystals, batteries, or any other source of power. I do not know how any of these clocks could have possibly worked at all. In one analog clock I found at a store, and a few wristwatches, I found the inside of them only consisted of some sort of gelatinous gray lump. It’s really cute! But also, it is really terrifying, because I do not know how something like this could possibly relate to time! All it seems to do is...sit there, sometimes beginning to grow what looks like hair, and teeth. I checked with my danger meter to see if it was dangerous, and it only registered as about a 1.2! I don’t know what is happening. I think that, though I have a very large same size of clocks and watches, I need a larger one, to determine if indeed, all clocks in Night Vale are not real, and not just the ones I have taken apart.

There is supposedly a clock tower in Night Vale, near the center of town, but I have never seen it, even though all of the people who live here insists it’s real. I think investigating a clock that big would be incredibly useful in finding out about the clocks here, but so far, I have not met anyone who has seen it, they just know it to exist.

I know that Cecil is most likely very busy right now, at this time that is impossible to determine, and the last thing I want to do is bother him. But...but, this is incredibly concerning, and I need to know more information about the clocks here, and get in contact with the mayor and the police. There are a lot of gaps in the research I have done, and a study on anything with research gaps subsequently has a study filled with gaps. If I can somehow talk to the mayor and the police, and more people in Night Vale who have information on the clocks, that may explain why time here is so weird.

I...I have been avoiding this, but I think the best thing to do would be to meet with him, somewhere, and talk about this. I know I told him I did not have the available time to meet with him, but there are two things I know about that very subject right now. One is that time here is weird, slowing down, perhaps. It may be that I actually _do_ have time! And two, not having enough information on the clocks in this town is not likely to be of any help to supporting the hypothesis that time here is weird. The ninth thing a scientist needs to be is thorough!

Maybe I can just leave him a quick message, if he is busy right now. Right, right, he is most likely busy. I can just leave him a quick message talking about the clocks and watches here and the scientific anomalies surrounding them, and if he’s available to meet sometime tomorrow, and, scientifically speaking, it will be fine! Fine is something all scientists are.

**[tape recorder clicks off]**

**[tape recorder clicks back on]**

I can do it I can do it I can do it I can do it oh my god no I can’t.

**[tape recorder clicks off]**

**[tape recorder clicks back on]**

No no I am going to do it, I am going to do it right now! I-it was fine the first time I called! Based on that experience, I can make an educated, scientific guess that it will be fine this time! And h-he seems interested enough in meeting before, so it’ll be fine, because he wants to, and can make time! I can talk about professional things that I have a lot of theories on, and a lot of information on, which makes this topic um, a much easier one to have a conversation about than the tectonic shifts Cecil asked about a few weeks ago!

Okay okay okay okay!! I am calling him now!!

**[tape recorder clicks off]**

* * *

 

**[tape recorder clicks on]**

Someone...someone is outside. Right after I called Cecil about the clocks, and left a message about the time here, a man in a jacket with a leather suitcase appeared outside my door, and just stayed there, not knocking, or doing anything else. I could not make out his face, and tried to get a better look by peering out of the blinds, and while I was leaving another message about the person at my door, he saw me, and he--!

…

…

…

**[sound of a door creaking open]**

**[the soft sound of buzzing flies]**

**[the sound of a creaking floor]**

H-hello, can I help you--? I--

**[distorted cassette noises]**

**[distorted sound of flies buzzing]**

**[distorted cassette noises that continue for several minutes until reaching a loud and profound distortion]**

**[tape suddenly cuts off]**

* * *

**[tape recorder clicks on]**

I...I am not sure what just happened. Someone had stopped over, but...I do not remember who, or what they came over for. I don’t remember what I was doing at the time, either. After I called Cecil for a second time for...for some reason, I remember opening my eyes, and sitting at my kitchen table, and nobody was in the room with me, although it felt as though someone had just been in it with me, the same way that traces of chemicals will remain in test tubes and flasks and cause issues if they are not rinsed out properly. It feels as though the chemical residue of...someone is here in the room with me. But I do not know who, and...something about not knowing that fact is terrifying. Very few things are more terrifying to a scientist than not knowing something, especially something like who a thing is, or why a thing is.

A-anyways, I called Cecil to apologize for...whatever just happened, and to tell him that I needed to meet him tomorrow, if he had contact information for the mayor and someone with the police, and, again, if could he tell his listeners about the clocks. I also asked about the clock tower, and if he’d seen it personally, and he said that it was because it is invisible, and always teleporting to places that are not the place the clock tower should reside in, which is why nobody ever sees it. I think I would need to do some sort of scientific tests to determine if a clock tower has ever been where everyone in Night Vale says it is. That involves getting some bright pink flags and measuring tape and stand there and say “hmm” while moving in a circular motion with the measuring tape! It is one of the most effective ways to determine if something has ever existed in an area, and a recently developed one, too! I think it is one of the most profound types of scientific experimentation right now, in the science community!

**[content sigh]**

OH!!!

Um.

Er.

Um!!!!

Cecil, h-he had tomorrow afternoon open! He told me he could meet me for coffee to talk about the clocks, and what I have discovered, and he told me he would bring the contact information for the mayor and police with him. He said that the way you contact them is not through a phone or an email, and, well, it’s better if he just explain it in person. He asked if I wanted to get lunch after, but I told him, even though time is most likely slowing down here, I still do not have much time.

And I don’t...I don’t want him to think this is anything more than what it is.

Which is to say, this is not occurring for personal reasons, but professional ones.

I hope that he knows that.

**[tape recorder clicks off]**

* * *

**[tape recorder clicks on]**

It has been so hard here, over the past few weeks, which may have been more or less time than an actual week because of the way time seems to function in Night Vale. I was excited when I first came here. And I still am excited, very much, about all of the occurances of Night Vale that every day fail to defy various laws of science! But I am also scared, scared for Night Vale, scared _of_ Night Vale. It is...it is so different here, and there are few things that familiar, that I can return to at the end of the day and realize that despite all of the strange and different things happening, there’s still something familiar and comforting. Adding anything new to this equation, it...it would just make this experience I am currently living even more difficult.

But...

Something happened today!

Something that made me feel...many emotions. All of the emotions we feel perhaps are a mix of several others, because there is a finite amount of neurotransmitters produced by the body that produce all of the feelings we feel.

I really like Cecil a lot!! And I know that he likes me a lot! But, this...that...it is not something I can do right now. Like him back to a greater extent, I mean. I had hoped he knew that we were only meeting for professional reasons, but he didn’t. And it hurt. It hurt so much. Telling him that it was for professional reasons, and that it wasn’t for personal ones, and that I was sorry if he misinterpreted things. I know that it upset him. I saw so much ache in his facial expression, when I first told him and really for the rest of the time I was talking to him. He seemed sort of distant. He listened, of course! I don’t think he knows too much about time, or other parts of science, but he listened and responded where he could. I told him about all the clocks and watches I have disassembled, and what I have found inside some of them, and what I suspect this has to do with the functions of time in Night Vale. Which is to say, I don’t know, but I’m trying to find okay, okay? That’s the definition of science! And then I asked Cecil if he could ask his listeners about the clocks and the clock tower, and he just nodded. I didn’t know what to say, or what to do. And it hurt. It hurt terribly. I...I was worried that he thought maybe things were one-sided. That he had his appendix set on someone who would never return the feelings he held so deeply, and he was trying to process all of that in those moments that likely were different from moments passing in the rest of the world.

But earlier today, I did not say anything.

Neither of us said anything for a few moments.

And t-then, I looked at Cecil, directly, and he looked at me.

“I’m sorry again for misunderstanding,” he said, “that was...really dumb of me. And, well, I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or anything.”

“It wasn’t dumb, really,” I told him, “I should apologize. I am so sorry if I made you feel badly, or anything like that, Cecil.”

“Uh, no,” he said, smiling at me, “no, it’s fine. I’m just embarrassed. It’s alright, really, Carlos.”

I could feel my heart beating, so quickly then, being this close to someone so handsome, this close to someone so wonderful. I...I have met many kind people in my life. Many. Scientists always meet many people. But Cecil, and his kindness, it...it made me feel happy. It made me feel...safe. Ever since I came here, he has been so kind to me, even when so much of this town does not feel the same way about me. He has been so helpful, to the scientific community, and to me, and, well, um, scientifically speaking I mean, of course, according to scientific figures and graphs with numbers, I um, I really, really appreciate him! A-and all that he has done, for his community, through the passion he has for his job.

I must have been thinking about that for a while, because Cecil had been trying to get my attention. I told him, I was sorry, I was just thinking, because that is a thing scientists do, a lot. And he said he didn’t know that, because it sounds a bit like radio, which is mostly talking about things that you are thinking about. A-and, um, because one of the things a scientist has to be is inquisitive, I asked him other things about radio, and how else it is like science! And a-aside from using one of the most exciting types of waves that exist on the electromagnetic spectrum, there are many other aspects of radio that are like science! Like being thorough! Being thorough and clear about things is very important as a radio journalist. Talking about science, and the things science has in common with his line of work...it was not difficult, at all. It was very easy. Very easy to talk to _Cecil_!!!

I!! I like talking with Cecil!

And...I don’t know. It is dangerous for scientists to draw conclusions with no facts related to a procedure. That is never a scientific way to think. But in terms of hypotheses, based on facts I already am aware of...I think he might like talking to me, too?

And then I...um...well, I thanked him for meeting with me, and!!!!! H-he offered me his hand!!! He really did!!! He offered me his hand and I shook it!!! It was a firm yet gentle handshake! And kind one! One that seemed to embody so much of what made him the man he is. And for a few seconds that I know are weird and maybe not even real in Night Vale, I felt that hand in mine, and it felt...so thrilling.

**[sigh]**

I left right after that, s-sort of quickly. I h-had things I had to do, and I did not want to keep Cecil any longer than I already had. I needed to continue looking at the gray masses I found in the clocks, though. I needed to look at them underneath a microscope and say “hmmm” intermittently while rubbing my chin, sometimes making exclamations like “wow!!!!! Wow, come look at this!!!!!” at Mark or Dave and writing things like “science!” and “microtubules?!” on a whiteboard. I told Cecil that I needed to go, to continue really important scientific research, and I would contact him if I found anything else out.

I...I know that this is not the end of this feeling. This...this feeling is a process. A reaction. Along chemical reaction, one with many parts, many processes. Like an electron transport chain! Electron transport chains are so exciting! It is a step-by-step process that requires breaking molecules down, building them back up into something else, and breaking them down again to produce energy through an enzyme! The way organisms are able to produce energy in the most efficient way they can is such a magnificent things of all!

Um, I, I am getting off topic.

Chemical reactions, form a chemical standpoint, take some amount of time, require certain environmental conditions, and have a lot of stages that go into them. 

Even if time here in Night Vale is weird, and may not exist, it is still something that can be experienced.

If time is still experienced here, then, chemical processes are still able to perform the way they always have.

And, well, I, um...I think...I think that is really neat!

**[chuckles]**

**[tape recorder clicks off]**


	4. Tapes 16-19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things! Firstly, I am a goofus and I thought this would be only six chapters, and I think it may be a little longer than that! Or, a lot longer, I'm not totally sure yet! @w@ I also thought that this would be done when it reached 10k words, and it's not even close to being done at 10k!
> 
> Anyways, this chapter...I'm pretty alright with it! There are some things I feel I could have done better but all in all I think it's just fine! The thing is, Carlos isn't really mentioned at all from The Traveler to The Mayor. I wanted this to pan out a little longer though, time-wise, so that's why this chapter is here. And, not to mention, it offers some room between the last chapter and OYL which gives Carlos a little more room for that transition. And all that means is I actually had to come up with situations myself, hehe.

**[tape recorder clicks on]**

There is a mountain outside of Night Vale that recently has been making a strange, but very soothing, humming noise! I heard it making the noise when I went to the sand wastes outside of Night Vale to look at the types of rocks found there. There is a very wide variety of rocks found there! I found many common desert rocks, such as sandstone, shale, granite, and schist! But many other types of rocks found not in the desert, such as oceanic basalt and basalt that is normally only found on the moon!! I ran some figures and licked the rocks we collected and I found out that they were just as old as the regular desert rocks found there and likely had formed there as well! I do not know how they formed there, so far away from the places in which they regularly occur, but I think that running more figures and writing “science!!” on a chalkboard a lot will provide some answers.

OH, oh, the mountain, right. I found out recently that very few people in Night Vale believe in mountains. When I asked people who lived close enough to the mountain to hear its humming (which was about a fifty mile radius!), they all said the same thing. The thing they said was that mountains are not real, and that the earth is “flat all the way ‘round, flat all the way ‘round, flat all the way ‘round”, repeating that over and over until we were not sure what to do or say and just left.

I um, I decided to ask Cecil if he knew anything about the humming noise coming from the mountain outside of town. And he said the same thing that the other people we’d asked had said, about how the earth is “flat all the way ‘round”, and also that believing in mountains is dangerous and a completely fruitless belief.

But I told him, there is _definitely_ a mountain outside of Night Vale!! It was impossible not to see it! And Cecil said, “well, Carlos, if it’s real, and you can see it, why can’t I see it right now?” and I said, “because it’s only one mountain, they generally form in ranges but sometimes only one will form at a time, as is the case with the one outside of Night Vale that is to the west outskirts of Night Vale while you are looking east!”, but he was not convinced.

S-so, um, so I offered to drive him and other staff members of Night Vale Community Radio out to the sand wastes to look at the humming mountain!! One of the things a scientist needs to do is help people understand things, which may be the most important thing a scientist can do, out of all the other important things scientists do!

Cecil told me on the drive out that what was _really_ concerning was that the City Council hadn’t brought into indefinite detention yet for believing in mountains and trying to convince other people that they exist. I told him other things about mountains, like the how they form and why a humming mountain is concerning. Cecil crossed his arms and huffed when I explained mountains to him. Also, he puffs out his cheeks a little bit when he is being kind of grouchy. It’s um, it’s supercute!

Despite being frustrated, though, he listened, because he said he was very into science, even if it was regarding a science he did not totally believe in because it was ridiculous.

When we arrived at the mountain, I asked all of them to behold it! That is the scientific way of asking people to observe something. It involves wildly waving your hands and motioning towards whatever you want people to observe. They observed the mountain, and even touched it when I told them that it was not a hologram or an astral projection. Their mumblings of “mountains, more like _nothings_ ” eventually became mumblings of “mountains, more like _somethings_ ”, as they felt the firm existence of a mountain rising up from the sand and humming.

I showed them the reading on my existence detector too, and how the mountain was definitely registering as a real, existing object, and that was a scientific fact because it was shown on a scientific meter. I think that they all understood that the mountain existed, and though none of them seemed to believe mountains in general exist, I think science was able to show them that at least one exists!

C-Cecil um, he told me that he believes there is at least one in existence, anyways. And  he thanked me f-for opening his eyes up to the possibility that at least one mountain exists! He said that it was possible that other mountain believers had made that mountain, so that people would believe in them, b-but he wasn’t certain if that was the case because science proved that it was real, and that he would update his view of mountains on his show, w-which was the vehement view that there is not a single mountain in the world.

H-he is so receptive to science!!

He does not understand a lot of it, but he is so supportive of the scientific community, and, well, the scientific community, scientifically speaking, appreciates that!!

**[tape recorder clicks off]**

* * *

**[tape recorder clicks on]**

He...he’s okay.

He’s okay!

With the way he ended his broadcast, I know he is okay! I know he is alive! And I know that he is home. Home. That is the best place to be when you have spent time in a place that is unfamiliar and I believe horrifying.

Cecil is home, and he’s okay, and I t-think I can stop pacing back and forth like this.

A-after he left, into that vortex he saw in his studio, I-I...I tried to call him! To warn him about how a vortex is, scientifically speaking, always at least a 9.8 on any danger meter, and he should stay away from it, and that he should take shelter from the sandstorm somewhere else within his studio. B-but as soon as I tried to call him, my phone made a strange buzzing noise and instead of dialing Cecil’s number, it just pulled up a video of a plaque removal on YouTube. While very interesting to watch, it was not particularly helpful! B-but, the eleventh thing a scientist needs to be is persistent, so I kept trying to call him, despite the plaque videos that kept getting opened.

I was still trying to call Cecil when I heard, um...that _voice_. That voice that belonged to someone who was not Cecil. Not Cecil at all. His name was...Kevin, I think? And f-from what he said, he was from a town over called Desert Bluffs. From what I have heard f-from Cecil, and other people who live here, it is not a nice town, and also, nowhere near as scientifically interesting as Night Vale. Cecil told me that also.

I try not to make assumptions without understanding people, or places. W-which is why I tried not to make any assessments about this man in Cecil’s booth, talking into Cecil’s microphone. I did not know him, or his life, s-so I tried not to think poorly of him. But. I have never heard a voice quite like his before. What made his voice so different is perhaps he opposite of what I think makes Cecil’s voice so different from the other voices I have heard before in my life. Something about Kevin’s voice was so, so frightening.

**[a few moments of silence]**

A-anyways, after the weather report, I heard Cecil’s voice again, and he seemed to be alive and okay. This sandstorm caused exact replicas of people to appear whenever they came into contact with it. Instead of being cut by rough sand and getting it in their lungs and eyes, people started getting into fights with their doubles, and were even instructed to try killing them! Given the high danger reading this sandstorm had, which was almost double that of a normal sandstorm, I c-can understand why the vortexes and doubles may have occurred. This sandstorm...l-like all other things that occur in Night Vale, was an abnormal one. A dangerous one. That vortex, e-especially, was concerning.

I think that he may have come in contact with the person who had been speaking into his microphone previously, and was attacked by him!! A-and had he not followed his own advice about not killing doubles, he would have tried killing him. F-from the sounds of it, that person who accidentally ventured into Cecil's booth was...no, I, I don't know. I was not there, and therefore, do not have a scientific observation to work off of and cannot draw a conclusion. But I do know that whoever he is, he is gone now, and not attacking Cecil.

I know that Cecil is safe.

H-his broadcast just ended, and I am s-still so relieved that he is okay, and alive. I um, I may call him later, to talk about this sandstorm and what my computer models and figures seem to suggest about it and its congruent very high danger reading.

It is uh, a very important scientific measurement, once that I think he could tell his listeners about on his show! It is a very professional reason I am calling for!

**[tape recorder clicks off]**

* * *

Recently, there have been several billboards all over Night Vale, that apparently had suddenly just appeared at one point and were never questioned. They have no pictures, only bright text. What they say is:

_“20% off everything! We’re going to take 20% off everything! Every thing! We’re crazy!”_

The police have apparently said that this sign is literal, and 20% of everything will be taken off, though they do not know what that 20% is or where it goes.

I called them to tell them that 20% of something cannot just disappear, it has to go somewhere, because that is one of the laws of thermodynamics. That is the first law of thermodynamics! Energy cannot just be created or destroyed! It must go somewhere! I explained this to them very clearly over the phone! Their answer to me was just the sound of an oboe being played for several minutes, before I heard a scoff and the person at the other end said, “scientists are comedians, man, please just stick to comedy, that’s what you’re really good at,” before hanging up!!

Can you believe that!!!

That was not nice!! And it was not at all an accurate view of the scientific community! Not in the slightest! Perhaps one of the things a scientist can be is a comedian, but scientists can be a lot of other things! That is like saying a type of tree is an evergreen tree, so all trees are evergreen trees and deciduous trees should get their act together and stop losing leaves because all trees are evergreens!!

**[huffs]**

**[tape recorder clicks off]**

* * *

**[tape recorder clicks on]**

Yesterday, I went to the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex because of an underground city that is underneath the pin retrieval area in Lane 5! Apparently, ever since a bowling ball rolled into it a few months ago, it has become increasingly loud. I decided to try and see if it was giving off some kind of danger reading yesterday! However, Teddy Williams, the man running the bowling alley, set up a twenty-four hour watch militia around the entrance to the miniature city. None of them would let me through! They told me it was Teddy’s orders not to let anyone past them, and if I really wanted to get through them and investigate the city I’d have to talk to Teddy himself.

When I asked them how to get in contact with him, they just laughed and said, “nice try, buddy!” before ignoring everything else I said to them about how someone absolutely had to get to the bottom of this and investigate this underground city, and soon, because we do not have much time! Even from where I was standing behind the wall of people guarding the underground city, my danger meter was detecting incredibly strong signals.

Although the line of people surrounding the retrieval pin would not let me in, I decided that I would try to adjust my danger meter so that it could maybe get a more accurate reading of the city, and do some other forms of scientific research with my mobile research kit! That involves taking out a mobile bunsen burner and holding a test tube of hydrochloric acid over it, dropping a magnesium ribbon into it, and gasping when the magnesium ribbon dissolves! And then taking out a laptop and plugging the danger meter into it to increase its signal, and then writing down the signals recorded at five-minute internals in a spreadsheet, and then developing a graphical representation of the recorded signals! With the increased range of the danger meter, I was able to discern an average danger level of around 9.5! The meter was buzzing and chirping loudly and causing my laptop to make loud whirring noises and heat up! With a level that high, I can only conclude that something very dangerous is approaching, and it is approaching soon.

I need to get down there before that something comes and causes some sort of catastrophe!

**[a few seconds of silence]**

When I was done taking measurements, I started to think about things. A lot of things. At first professional scientific things, and then personal things, and then a thought that was a mix of both scientific and personal things. I thought about the most was about how I have spent almost a year in Night Vale, now, and how it is still never failing to surprise me as a scientifically fascinating place. There are things I think I am beginning to understand about Night Vale, things I did not understand at first. Things that were horrifying at first, and then, gradually, showed themselves to be less horrifying, and then, not horrifying in the slightest, because they never were horrifying to begin with. And understanding them is maybe one of the most exciting experiences of all. Understanding anything is an exciting experience for a scientist. But something about this realization...it seems like something scientific, and something else entirely new and wonderful.

Oh!

I um, I saw something on my way out of the bowling alley! I saw Cecil bowling with his friend Josie. I think he mentioned that he was on a bowling team a few times on his show, s-so it makes sense that he would be there, from a scientific standpoint, that is, t-taking facts and applying them to a situation. I am not a bowler, so I really do not know very much about bowling or how to be good at it. But um, from what I saw, Cecil seemed to be pretty good at it! He looked so nice in what he was wearing, too. I got a uh, an um, an….o-observant look at what he was wearing when he bent over. I noticed s-something I had not noticed in a while, something that is very nice to have an observant look at!

I d-didn’t want to interrupt, or um, or anything like that, so I just waved to Josie when she saw me standing there and left in a hurry. She smiled at me, and then she winked, taking a few seconds to do so.

I really am not sure what that was about.

**[tape recorder clicks off]**


	5. Tapes 20-26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOO boy this was a long chapter! ;w; I am actually quite chuffed with how it came out, and I really hope it is an enjoyable read!
> 
> Thanks so much to everyone who has been reading this, by the way! Your support means the world to me! You're all great! <3

**[tape recorder clicks on]**

They are _here_!

In Night Vale!

The city underneath the pin retrieval area in lane five, I mean!

I have been doing regular remote readings on the danger levels of that pin retrieval area, and those regular readings have been incrementally increasing over the past few weeks. Teddy Williams is absolutely deranged and refuses to let me take closer, more accurate readings and take closer, more accurate scientific observations. He also refused to listen to the scientific information I was able to get whenever I approached him about it, always saying “science doesn’t have weapons, how can it keep us safe from harm, genius?” while waving a boomerang at me. I cannot _believe_ this man. I have met people in Night Vale who are unwilling to listen to science, but Teddy Williams has not listened to science the _absolute most_ . I believe that so much of the confusion when the sound of chanting and heavy machinery started to become incredibly loud earlier today is a direct result of Teddy Williams’ complete lack of willingness to understand and cooperate with science. A scientist, however, needs to be persistent. Persistent is actually the third thing a scientist needs to be! It is an incredibly important part of being a scientist whenever scientists are faced with people who do not want to listen to science. The next time Teddy Williams moves away from his volunteer militia to do an impromptu meditation session to quote “relieve all this stress” unquote, this stress he _would not have if he just listened to scientific reason_ , is when I will move into the entrance of the pin retrieval area!

Someone needs to get to the bottom of all of this!

Someone needs to get to the bottom of this _right now_!

Thinking that this is the sort of thing that cannot be understood or made safe from with science is _absolutely erroneous_.

**[a few moments of what would normally be silence but instead is the sound of chanting and machinery and sirens]**

I have been...I have been thinking lately. Actually, there is no real reason to say that. I am a scientist, so of course I have been thinking lately. To bring more specificity and angle to what I am saying, I have been thinking about my time in Night Vale lately. How I have been here a year now, and all of the things about Night Vale that I have learned since I came here. Night Vale, a town that is scientifically extraordinary and downright bizarre. When I first arrived, I knew that there would be many things that appear to defy much of how scientists understand the world around us. But I had no idea what the scope of those things would be. I did not think that there would be real, actual angels here! Or that the City Council would take such a horrifying form, a form that eludes most scientific ways of explaining the physical appearance of things short of “completely and utterly terrifying”. Or that time here is weird, and that none of the clocks here exist. I have felt many emotions towards all of the perplexing things that make Night Vale so unique. I have felt...fear, and anxiety, and being totally flummoxed by this town.

But..what I have been thinking is that perhaps...perhaps maybe there is something about Night Vale that I have not understood since I came here. That there is some critical variable in this equation I have been writing, one that changes the entirety of this equation completely and gives it an entirely new meaning. And I have been thinking about more than just Night Vale. I have been thinking this way about the ways I have felt, towards Night Vale, and perhaps towards the people who live in it. One person in particular. That m-maybe, a lot of the feelings I have had towards this person are ones that...ones that seemed terrifying at first but are in fact, not terrifying or bad at all. T-this feeling was a hunch, at first, but hard to understand in the midst of how alarming it felt. And that hunch is something that you think about, and think about for a while, as I have been doing with this hunch that I have had! And the more I thought about it, the more I realized it was not alarming at all, not in the slightest. And that hunch, something I know now to be wholesome after lots of thinking...it builds up to a decision. A huge decision. And that decision is one I believe I am very close to making.

**[tape recorder clicks off]**

* * *

**[tape recorder clicks on]**

OH, right, right, there is something else!

I wanted to mention something important, while I was waiting to get under the pin retrieval area. And that thing is that existence is strange, and exciting, but still strange. Very strange, actually, and recent research has shown it is maybe more strange than previously thought! There is a house here that looks like it exists, because you can see it right there, and it is in between two identical houses. It seems like it exists, and it would make far more sense for it to exist than to not exist. But it does _not_! The easiest way to tell if something is real or not is if you can see it. It is a very easy scientific test to examine the realness of something. If you can see it, it exists, and if you cannot, it most likely does not exist. However, there are many instances in which things exist, even if you cannot see them. They likely exist, but somewhere else, somewhere in which you cannot see them. And sometimes things do not exist even if you can see them very clearly, as is the case with the house in the developments of Desert Creek. Existence is tricky like that! Scientific research shows that existence is tricky!

I told Cecil all of this when he stopped by last week. He said he wanted to know if there were any scientific public service announcements! He’s just _so_ into science. I told him about the house that does not exist, and about all the tests we have done on it to prove this fact. Oh, and, I also asked him to see if any of his listeners would mind ringing the doorbell of that house that doesn’t exist. We would, of course, but for very...complicated scientific reasons, we cannot, though we are almost certain nothing will happen to anyone who does ring it. Mark said that they’d get paid five dollars if they ring the doorbell for us and I told him that is not a very ethical way to go about science, but he kept saying “five bucks for a doorbell ring” over and over until I offered to walk Cecil out to his car to tell him in a less noisy environment more about the house that does not exist. C-Cecil um, he mentioned that he was putting together a ceremony to commemorate a year of a solid scientific presence in Night Vale! He said he was incredibly appreciative of how much more scientific Night Vale became as a town since there were actual scientists investigating it, and that his radio show had never been more scientific! H-he really said that! A-and that’s...that’s when I thought, maybe that would be a good time to make a decision, an important decision. A decision that w-would change a lot of things for me, a-and um, ah, um, um, ah, uh, and for Cecil! S-so I told him I would make this really scientific ceremony, when I was finished getting measurements at the bowling alley. A-although, I think I may be delayed, a little bit...I did not expect this much of a hubbub today!

I know that if there is just some understanding of this city, some way to get to the bottom of why it exists under the pin retrieval area of lane five and how it exists, there will be no reason for militias or wars! There is no need to fight with a city that may just be unaware of the fact that Night Vale means no harm!

I think that is one of the most important things to know about Night Vale to those who do not know of it, and do not understand it. That despite all of the things that make Night Vale seem like a deleterious and fearsome place, it is neither of those things. And that is something that requires an understanding. The scientific realization of the true qualities of something, free of any preconceived viewpoints that get in the way of an objective observation, hypothesis, experiment, and conclusion. I am sure that if this underground city only _understood_ Night Vale, this ruckus would stop!

**[a few moments of aforementioned chanting and machinery]**

It looks like Teddy is leaving the militia crowded near the pin retrieval area to do his stress relief meditation session. I will approach lane five now! And I will get to the bottom of this!

**[tape recorder clicks off]**

* * *

 

**[tape recorder clicks on]**

**[the sound of chanting and machinery is much louder]**

I do not like having to speak this loudly!!! But it is the only way that I think my voice will be heard over the sound of the city!

I was able to get past the militia once Teddy had unrolled his yoga mat and sat down for meditation. The militia wouldn’t let me by, and kept trying to push me away while saying “you’re not getting through here, tough guy!” and “back off, curious interloper!” while waving the weapons they had on them. It was not until I told them to please move, b _ecause someone had to get to the root of all of this_ , and it was not going to be Teddy Williams, of all people involved with this underground city. I um, I may have used a crude adjective that I now regret using to describe Teddy. He did not approve of it, and when the militia finally let me through and I could finally climb down the pin retrieval area, I heard him loudly yelling something about what I had said.

Now that I am underground, the sounds of the city are much louder, and I can see it, clearly! Strange spires and bright burning windows and movement! Something about it looks familiar, though I am not sure what. I will try to move closer to it, in order to gauge the danger levels of it, but...well, right now, the danger levels seem incredibly high, given the relative proximity of this city! If these readings are accurate, then it is far more dangerous than I thought before! I wish I had known about this city’s level of danger earlier. This is very concerning, and I fear we may have no time to protect ourselves from the harm this city is capable of inflicting! Perhaps capable of so much harm, it may be more than difficult trying to communicate with them!

I am going to move further towards this city, and get as close to it as I can!

I’ll be fine! I’ll be fine!

A scientist is always fine!

**[tape recorder clicks off]**

* * *

**[tape recorder clicks on]**

**[once again over the sound of chanting and machinery]**

_T-THIS!!!!_

_THIS IS NOT A REGULAR SIZED CITY MILES BENEATH THE GROUND!!!_

_IT IS A TINY CITY!!!!_

_BARELY TEN FEET BELOW THE GROUND!!!_

They spent an entire year climbing to the reaches of the world above them!

This city poses no threat, given its size! Scientifically speaking, small cities are generally less threatening than large cities, because the ways in which they can cause harm are on a much smaller scale! These high danger readings must be a result of something else, as it is a scientific fact that small cities do not generate particularly high danger readings!

I am going to go back up, ask everyone to follow me here, and then ask them to all behold this scientific fact!

Night Vale...will be okay! It will truly be okay! From a scientific standpoint, according to science and scientific facts, everything will be okay! We have nothing to fear!

**[tape recorder clicks off]**

* * *

**[tape recorder clicks on]**

**[chanting and machinery is quieter, and the tone of the chanting is different, more jubilant]**

T-the tiny city...

**[coughs]**

...H-had a l-lot of projectiles a-and e-explosives, and f-fired them at me. T-there were a lot of them! I thought that the danger m-meter had a jammed signal, p-potentially due to the militia in the bowling alley.

B-but no, no, this miniature underground c-city _was_ dangerous. I-I am definitely bleeding...they fired so many e-explosives and projectiles that I fell down, into the side of the small h-hole in which this small city occupied.

**[gasps]**

N-nobody is doing anything. T-they are just standing there, looking, eyes wide, mouths open. I-is it because I am an outsider to this town? Is t-that why? I-I need...I need h-help...

**[gasps]**

T-there’s so much b-blood. R-right now I...I cannot get up. I a-am not a d-doctor, I am a scientist, b-but I do not think I c-can withstand another round of attacks from t-this city.

**[winces]**

I-it’s getting h-hard...to...k-keep talking...

**[winces]**

**[shaky exhale]**

**[tape recorder clicks off]**

* * *

 

**[tape recorder clicks on]**

I...am fine.

Like all scientists are and will be, I am fine.

I must have gone unconscious for some time, because I really cannot remember what happened between when I fell into the side of the pit that tiny city was resting in, and when I found myself lying on the familiar brightly colored linoleum floor of the bowling alley. The sound of the underground city’s chanting and machinery and weaponry had almost completely dissipated into a low and barely noticable hum when I opened my eyes again. Teddy said he’d stopped the bleeding and said I would be fine, and when I asked how he knew that and how he performed first aid, he said, “I’m a doctor, bud, c’mon, don’t you remember how all bowling alley owners are doctors?”

For a few moments I stayed there on the floor, thinking about what had just happened.

And that...that is when I thought about Cecil.

I thought about him a lot.

And...I wanted to make that decision.

I wanted to call Cecil and tell him about this feeling, this feeling that is not a fact, but more of a hunch hunch that I have had for a weird amount of time that adds up to approximately a year.

This feeling, the one that is not a fact, but a hunch, a decision, and then many more decisions...it’s love.

S-so I...I left Cecil a message, and told him to meet me in the Arby’s parking lot, which is not too far away from his station. I know he is very busy, but...I know he must also be worried, and, well...I just want to see him.

The Arby’s parking lot is where I am now, waiting for him. He said he would come over during the weather report, which is about right now.

I... _cannot wait_ to see him.

**[tape recorder clicks off]**

* * *

 

**[tape recorder clicks on]**

I am so, so glad I called Cecil.

**[content sigh]**

When he arrived, he hurriedly got out of his car, asking what danger Night Vale is in and what sort of mystery needs exploration.

And I just shook my head and...and I told him!!! I told him that after everything that had happened at the bowling alley with the underground city, I just wanted to see him.

As Cecil got closer to my car, I looked at Night Vale’s setting sun. Looking at it, I thought about all of the things I have been thinking about Night Vale recently. I told Cecil that I used to think that the sun set at the wrong time. That there was something scientifically inexplicable at work, or something malevolent. But...the more time I spent in Night Vale, the more I learned about it. I came to realize time does not work here. None of the clocks are real. The sun wasn’t setting at the wrong time. No, the sun was doing something else altogether, and that something else...it was neither strange, nor malevolent.

It was, in fact, something pure, and something innocent.

I looked at Cecil.

He smiled.

“I know what you mean,” he said.

I smiled back at him.

Cecil sat next to me on the hood of my car.

Neither of us said anything. There were so many things I wanted to say, but...feelings are so, so hard to describe. Feelings are not like facts. Feelings...feelings like love, especially, are not facts. There was so much I wanted to say in that moment, but I had no idea how to express it.

I just looked at Cecil.

“I’m glad I decided to call you,” is all I said.

And then I put a hand on Cecil’s knee, squeezing it, gently.

I said nothing.

Cecil put his head on my shoulder.

He said nothing.

Neither of us said anything.

I knew we felt the same.

We looked up at the mysterious lights flickering above the Arby’s. There was a time, not too long ago, about a year ago, when I would have thought that these lights were unnatural, and perhaps the result of something ominous.

But I understand the lights above the Arby’s.

They are pure, and they are so beautifully resplendent.

I understand...so much.

And as I looked further into the sky, I began to think about how there are many, many things that I still do not understand. And I thought about how at the core of that lack of understanding is wonder. Wonder over something that defies so much of our understanding of the world, that is, science. Wonder over how things so strange can exist, and how beautiful and thrilling it is that they exist at all.

  
**[tape recorder clicks off]**


	6. Tapes 27-29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOO! Sorry it has been so long since I have posted a chapter! I've been super busy with college, it is a lot of work. ;w; 
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this chapter...these two are so cute and good... ;w;

**[tape recorder clicks on]**

W-we...we have a date!! Scientifically s-speaking, we have a r-real, actual date!! I-I’m going to go on a date, with Cecil!

I um, I just called Cecil, for personal reasons! I also mentioned the strange source of energy that is rapidly approaching Night Vale, but not emanating the type of light that such a source of energy should emanate. Cecil said he’d definitely seen strange sources of energy approaching Night Vale before, though he couldn’t tell me for sure if this source of energy was a different one, and he would ask his listeners if they knew anything. He said that he had seen a lot of strange sources of energy in all the time he had lived in Night Vale, though he could not tell me if this one was particularly different or not, since he had an untrained eye. So I told him about the six different types of sources of energy that can be experienced, and how they all emit a particular kind of light, and one that does not emit a particular kind of light has never been heard of. This source of energy appears to be a Type 6 source, given its murky black appearance and faint buzzing noise, but it is not emanating a blue to indigo light. If a source of energy did not emit light, and perhaps, emitted something else entirely, it would be incredibly dangerous, capable of things far greater than simply destroying property, as I have seen in many other sources of energy that have approached Night Vale.

And Cecil said that he did remember one source of energy in particular that fire tiny flaming hairs at everything it came into contact with while emitting some strange, fuschia-colored light. I told him that was a Type 3 type of energy, generally described as a fuschia to pink lighted energy source that can fire things, usually hair, salt shakers, discarded take out it didn’t like, or matches. All on fire. I worried that I was talking too much about it, and not letting him talk enough, but...but he said that he really enjoyed hearing about different energy sources! And that he was really learning a lot about science! It...it made me think about that night in the Arby’s parking lot a few weeks ago, feeling his head on my shoulder, f-for the first time in a r-really long time, feeling so...so safe. Feeling my understanding of that hunch I had well up into a decision I’d just made, and feeling nothing but excitement over that decision. And when I was talking to him on the phone earlier, I felt that way, and also felt, really felt, in that moment, like I could talk to him. A-and that I could talk to him about anything. Really, t-truly, anything.

A-and, well, that reminded me about why I had called him in the first place.

I told him that I was calling to inform him about the energy source, yes, but only partially. I was, w-well um, I was calling personally because I wanted to ask him what he was doing this evening, if he was free, and no pressure if he wasn’t, but I was just wondering, s-since that is a thing curious scientists do a lot.

A-and he said he wasn’t! That he was definitely free tonight and he was actually free at that very moment if I was in a serious hurry, a-and I said I was not, just tonight was fine, and how did meeting Old Town Night Vale after my watch said that it was six-thirty sound? Cecil asked why it was when my watch said it was six-thirty, and I told him, it is the only real watch in Night Vale and therefore gives the only accurate representation of time, and relying on things such as Night Vale clocks or the sun’s position in the sky may result in us not meeting at the right time because we were not experiencing the same thing. And he said that was actually super scientific and _super smart_. I told him I would text him when my phone said it was six-thirty, and then we both drive to Old Town Night Vale and not worry about meeting up at the wrong time.

I told him my watch said it was three-nineteen, and asked if that enough time, and he said “oh, _definitely_ , I just need to slip into something _enticing_ first,” i-in a voice that is a l-little lower than usual, like dark and rich honey, a-almost rumbling in the depth it reached.

**[shaky exhales]**

U-uh, after we finalized where we’d meet each other, we hung up.

I am just now r-realizing that Cecil is probably g-going to wear something really fancy and I s-should probably try to match that so he does not feel overdressed. Cecil is just _so handsome_ and looks so good in every outfit I have seen him in.

A few months ago I ran into him at Night Vale’s community college, and oh, he just had the _cutest_ outfit on. He had a very bright tie-dye shirt on with jeggings and a cumberband that was super glittery! I remember that outfit so well because I think that was the first time I ever game him a compliment. I had definitely thought of compliments before to give him, but this was the first time I actually said one to him. I ran into him in the communications department hall, and I asked him if he liked science, because I had to show someone else that hazy column of darkness that could only be seen from one exact angle and distance from the roof of the earth science department, out in a field near the edge of town. I told him it was scientifically interesting, and though I did not know what it was, I found that for some reason, whenever you moved from that exact position, it would disappear. And Cecil told me that he did find it scientifically interesting, and also, you could see his apartment building from where we were standing, and it never disappeared, and pointed to it. It was a really nice building...a good, solid roof with beautiful Spanish shingles. I told him that, and...and he smiled, and I wondered in that moment if anyone has ever mentioned to him that his smile is incredibly captivating. I, um, I did not say any of that, a-and instead mentioned a meeting I had to go to. W-which was true, though I was leaving for it earlier than I needed to. Staring at him smiling in the fading sunlight l-like that...back then, it had almost been too much to handle, being in so new a place, being in so new a situation, every day.

But now...now, it does not feel overwhelming. Now, it feels...right. And beautiful. The idea of seeing Cecil smiling in the evening’s light m-makes me really excited! I can hold his hand in mine and feel it there, firmly in place, and just soak my being in the presence of his honeyed voice and his smile.

I...um, I h-haven’t been on a date in a long time, actually, f-for many, um, personal reasons. Let alone a _first_ date. A-and, um, I am not really sure what an appropriate first date outfit would be. Should it be something really formal? Like a ridgid professional workday lab coat? Or should it be something more laid-back? I don’t want to come overdressed and make Cecil feel like he did not dress up enough, but I also don’t want to come underdressed and make him feel like he overdressed. Scientists always need to be prepared for confounding variables in any type of new observational experience and come up with ways to avoid them. So maybe...maybe something semi-formal? Something black-tie optional, like a laid-back weekend lab coat? The laid-back weekend lab coat I have is very nice...it is very crisp, bright white, a perfect mix between professional and laid-back, and smells nice, like sunlight. Though it is specifically for laid-back weekend plans, sometimes I like taking it out and smelling it. Not wearing it, of course, as that would be scientifically unprofessional in professional and completely casual environments, but just smelling it. It smells very familiar, and helps me feel less nervous about strange new situations. Hmm. Would a laid-back weekend lab coat be a good idea? I think it would be.

Now, hmm, what shirt to wear...

**[tape recorder clicks off]**

* * *

**[tape recorder clicks on]**

I c-cannot!!! Stop!! Shaking!!!! I also cannot s-stop flapping my hands!!!

I j-just _kissed_ him!!!!!!!!

I JUST _KISSED_ HIM!!!!

I just l-leaned in and _kissed_ him!!!!!! Just once, just gently. I didn’t, um, I didn’t want to impose or do anything too hastily but...but I _KISSED_ him!!!

_AND I-IT WAS SO WONDERFUL!!!_

It helps that he has such a soft mouth that feels warm and inviting. It r-really does!! I have no doubt, a word in science for not being certain of the scientific veracity of something, that Cecil is an _amazing_ kisser. He, um, he did not kiss back, but that is because I pulled away very quickly and told him I had to save Night Vale from the buzzing black energy currently inhabiting Night Vale and turning most of its citizens into similarly dark and buzzing humanoid forms of energy. That energy source is what is causing the buzzing that is I think audible through my recording. In case it is not...

**[cicada-like buzzing]**

I am not sure how this energy source is buzzing, or how it is causing people to become similar energy sources, but I will investigate it, as soon as I, um, as soon as I can walk, because right now my legs are shaking too much and feel too weak because I just _kissed Cecil_! Who is my boyfriend! Oh my gosh I have a _boyfriend_ now and I _kissed him_!

B-but, um, I s-should probably start trying to work on this buzzing source of energy, b-before I talk any more about our date. I need to stop this source of energy before it completely consumes Night Vale. Run some experiences, look at some figures, y’know. Normal scientific things.

**[tape recorder clicks off]**

* * *

**[tape recorder clicks on]**

The shadowy, buzzing source of energy has been taken care of! I discovered that it was in fact not a source of energy at all, but a fog, which explains why it did not give off the type of light that a source of energy of those characteristics would normally give off. Like normal harmless types of fog, it is made up of liquid droplets suspended in the air near the surface of the earth, very much resembling a cloud in appearance. I noticed this when the fog began to devour Big Rico’s next door. It began doing so by spraying tiny spherical droplets that rested on the building like dew, and then, as it closed in, more and more droplets landed on the building until it was noticeably dark and buzzing. Unlike normal harmless types of fog, however, this fog was energized, likely by absorbing a Type 6 energy source, and became thick and murky and started buzzing. I have called this a Pseudotype 1 energy source, since it is not a _true_ energy source but is capable of similar damages. That explains why the danger reading for this supposed source of energy was more similar to that of sentient types of fog...it registered almost as strongly as Night Vale’s Glow Cloud does! Almost.

Because this dark, buzzing mass was actually a fog, I found that I was able to dissipate it simply by using heat! The most effective source of heat, I found, was plugging an incandescent lightbulb into a portable generator, which gave off more than enough heat to evaporate the malevolent fog consuming so much of Night Vale. I believe that the fog coming into town during sunset is not a coincidence; it gets much cooler in the desert at night, which means that this sentient mass of buzzing dark fog would be able to consume more without getting dissipated by the heat of the desert sun the next day. I contacted the police and asked them to let everyone know that if they turn on their homes’ heating systems, they should be safe, but they just asked me if I knew any jokes about open heart surgery or different types of axes. In the past weird hour, though, I have noticed the sound of buzzing and murky darkness of the fog has decreased dramatically, so I think that they must have said...something.

I’m glad that people are safe, now.

Mostly because finding ways to keep people safe from sources of danger is a very large part of being a scientist, but also because it means I can talk about what happened on our date!

We met up in Old Town Night Vale, like we agreed, and...oh, he was just _so handsome_. He had a tunic and furry pants on, and I think it was the most beautiful outfit I have ever seen him wear. It was absolutely perfect for the occasion...a stunning combination between being relaxed and yet clearly cognizant of how important the situation was. Cecil told me he’d gotten a reservation at Gino’s Italian Dining Experience And Grill And Bar, the fanciest restaurant in Night Vale.

I asked him if he had to call really far ahead in advance to get one, and he just shrugged and said he wasn’t sure, he just got a prickly pear with the thorns pulled off outside his apartment door this morning telling him he had a reservation. Gino’s tended to advertise that way a lot, he said, and frankly he was glad because his original plan was either Jerry’s Tacos or Buffalo Wild Wings and then bowling. And I told him, that sounded very nice and we should definitely do that the next time we go out.

“The next time?” he said, stuttering, embarrassed.

“Yeah, the next time,” I also said, also stuttering, also embarrassed.

He just took my arm in his, and walked me to Gino’s. And it felt so wonderful, feeling my arm in his. I could feel Cecil right there with me, and feel his warmth and form intertwined with mine. Walking with him like that made me feel so many things at once, all adding up into a feeling of pure elation. I noticed the black buzzing on the edge of town again, and asked Cecil if he found out anything about the source of it, and he told me it was _probably yet another_ Applebee’s under construction.

I actually have no memory of what happened between when we entered Gino’s and when we sat down in a sophisticated, understated room with no doors. I asked Cecil if this was normal, and he said it was. Actually, he said, it’s the full Gino’s experience, and we were incredibly lucky to be getting the whole experience. He is so knowledgeable about his town, down to the very fine details of dining experiences.

From the window we were seated by, we could see the sunset in all of its beauty, a beauty that included setting about forty-eight minutes earlier than it did in the rest of the world. We could also see the buzzing shadow energy source, which had moved much closer to Night Vale at that point. I reached across the table and put my hand on Cecil’s. His hand felt so, so nice in mine. As though the shape of it was meant to complement mine, the same way that substrates are meant to complement enzymes in a lock and key model.

Cecil told me that the portabello mushrooms at Gino’s were really good, especially served rare and bleeding. So we ordered a single mushroom, ordered rare with a cool red center and bleeding profusely, and I could just feel the romance in the air.

“I’ve been thinking,” I said to Cecil, a little before the mushrooms came to the table.

“Uh-huh?” he said, curious, adorable.

“Yeah, that’s what I’ve been doing lately,” I said. “Thinking. It’s part of being a scientist. What have you been up to?”

And he told me about everything he had been up to lately! He told me about a report he had recently done on an upcoming private library being built for a local billionaire, and another report he’d done on an announcement the sheriff’s secret police had given earlier this week. He also talked about a wood carving he’d been working on of a frilled shark, and how he honestly thought it was coming along _swimmingly_ , which I thought was a brilliant and humorous use of that word, and I told him that, and he smiled. He also told me about an upcoming bowling tournament against Desert Bluffs, and I asked him a few questions about bowling since I am not very good at it, like, what exactly the stylish shoes are for, and is it against the rules to apply various rules of physics to incredibly heavy bowling balls to increase their distance. He knows _so much_ about bowling.

We finished dinner with invisible carrot cake, which is exactly like air in every way. I performed scientific tests on it before we ate it! It had the exact same qualities as air in terms of smell, appearance, taste, texture, and sound (it did not make the same chirping noise as regular carrot cake does). After we paid for our meal to a vaguely buzzing shadow figure who did not resemble our waiter from before, Cecil showed me how to properly break the window with a brick we had been provided earlier.

When we had safely exited Gino’s, I asked Cecil if he would be interested in taking a stroll in Mission Grove Park, and he said that he would be delighted to. It was very nice there that evening. The amber afternoon light soaked itself into the trees and shrubs and fellow citizens screaming at the sky. Cecil asked me if I wanted to join them for a round, but I told him I had already been scared of all the things the empty sky implies yesterday. In fact, I spent maybe eight hours being scared of it because I had noticed what seemed to be a phenomenon similar to the aurora borealis, but could not possibly be that, given Night Vale’s location. I also noticed the phenomenon was only visible every other time I blinked, and whenever I saw this phenomenon, I saw literally nothing else in the sky, including the sky itself. It was very horrifying and I was sort of tired from it. Instead, I told Cecil, we could run some experiments on the trees. They certainly seemed normal, but given all the things I have experienced in Night Vale so far, there was a significant chance that they were not. Cecil said he would love to, so we approached an old, sagging cat claw acacia to perform tests.

The tests we performed were very simple. They involved testing for a potential heartbeat the tree may have with a stethoscope, checking its danger meter, giving the tree various compliments and seeing if it responded,  and saying “hmm” in the general vicinity of it.

I, um, I t-think I felt Cecil very gently touching my face somewhere, b-but I really am not sure, because I was trying to see if the tree had a heartbeat and was focusing on that. I let Cecil listen to the tree, and told him about how tree heartbeats are very different from animal heartbeats. He was so interested in what I was saying, so attentive. He said he didn’t really understand a lot of it, but it was incredibly fascinating. I think that is why I wanted to show him the kind of experiments I did on things. Because I found them so interesting and so delightful, and because they meant so much to me. I wanted to share it with Cecil because they meant so much to me. And though I do not think Cecil understood much of it, I think they meant a lot to him too.

Unfortunately, the results were largely inconclusive, and I did not want to try any more rigorous experiments that might harm the trees physically. I am not a botanist, but I know enough about trees to know that getting results from experiments done on them can be particularly difficult sometimes.

When we finished doing experiments on the trees, we moved around all of the buzzing shadowy figures that seemed to have replaced the people in Mission Grove Park, and Cecil offered to drive me back to my lab, because it was getting dark and I had walked over, and also on account of the huge buzzing shadow entities that seemed to have taken the place of everyone in town except for us. The drive back was very difficult, with one woman running into the street and then halfway through turning into one of the shadow beings herself. The energy that these buzzing shadowy figures emanated seemed capable of making the hairs on every part of my body stand up and bowls vibrate, though it is very possible that the chemistry I felt with Cecil was a confounding variable, because that was also making the hairs on every part of my body stand up and my bowels vibrate.

When Cecil pulled up to Big Rico’s, he parked his car near the lab’s entrance, and looked at me. For a moment, I thought about maybe inviting him in, to see the beakers and graduated cylinders and humming lab equipment, but I worried that would maybe be too forward on a first date. Instead, I just pointed to the lab.

“Well, this is me.”

“Uh-huh,” he said.

“I should probably do something about this ’ _buzzing shadow_ ’ thing,” I said to him, “a few experiments, to see if I can save the town.”

“Oh?” he said, raising his eyebrows, “do you need any help with that?”

“No. A scientist is self-reliant. It’s the first thing a scientist is.”

“Oh,” said Cecil again, but softer this time, sadder.

And that is when I did it!

When I leaned in and kissed him, just once, just gently, I felt that soft and lush mouth of his so delicately molding with mine in those brief, blissful seconds. When I pulled away, I um, I quickly got out of his car, and went back into my lab, feeling myself beginning to tremble far more than I had at any other time during that point in the day!

And right now, just remembering that moment, though it now has been one that occured some time ago...I still find myself trembling.

I am a scientist, and not a medical doctor nor an anatomical biologist, but I know for a fact right now that my heart rate has increased substantially and my blood pressure has increased and that my brain is emitting extreme levels of dopamine and norepinephrine. A-and that is exciting!!! The fact that organisms can physically respond to things such as love, things that are completely intangible, and have an impact on things as tangible as neurotransmitter release and physical response!! I-I have heard people say that love is just a bunch of neurotransmitters, a bunch of biochemical responses working in unison with one another to produce a particular feeling. But love...love is much more than that. Love is something that exists between two people. Something very unique that those two people share. Something that becomes a bigger and bigger part of someone’s life. Something that science cannot measure, cannot define nor explain, like love, can cause a shift in things that science can measure, and that is all so _exciting_.

 


	7. Tapes 30-32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, this fic is over 20K words now! @w@ That is a lot!
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has been reading this again! I know I say this a lot but it really means a ton!

**[tape recorder clicks on]**

**[exhales, and sniffles]**

Today has been...well, today has been a day, composed of a certain allotment of hours that does not quite conform to the traditional allotment of hours to makes up a day, but that is how days tend to work in Night Vale. And today has been one of those days. Maybe, it is best to think about and consider a day’s events in a way that begins at the broadest descriptions, and then narrows down into the specifics. In scientific writing this way of thinking is applied to a paper’s introduction. Starting off with the broadest topic, one that will capture anyone’s interest, and then moving down to the topic the entire paper focuses on. And then sitting at a computer for several hours while rubbing your chin intermittently and saying “hmm” and staring at graphs and wondering exactly how you should be incorporating them and then saying things like “there are a lot of scientific things to consider here!”

And regarding today, and the specifics of the events of it, there are a lot of things to consider. Like the fact that weird but particular progressions of hours define a day in Night Vale, strange occurrences that take the entire city by surprise are also definitive of a day in Night Vale. A few strange things happened today, some of them exciting, and some of them, um...well, that is what I will get into, um, a little later. 

Two very exciting things happened today! One was the appearance of what appeared to be tumbleweeds. Tumbleweeds are not uncommon in the desert, but there was something off about these tumbleweeds. They were made of some kind of dark gray mass that radiated some sort of cold so strong it causes heat waves to be visible when the two airs mix are not particularly common. After chasing them for several (probably) fifteen minute intervals and failing to catch them after multiple attempts of sneaking up on them and pouncing, we decided to just set up tumbleweed traps, which worked very effectively! When we came back and were able to properly investigate them, we found they were actually conglomerates of some kind of staticky, buzzing material that hurt to touch and hurt even more to hear making their strange staticky, buzzing noises. I still am unsure what exactly these tumbleweeds are made of, and why they permeate such cold temperatures. 

The other exciting thing was that the sky was a weird color today. Instead of being blue, it instead looked more of a bleached green color that subtly flickered, so subtly in fact that it was very hard to know if it was truly flickering or not. However, upon holding my danger meter paired up with a barometer up to the sky, its beeping and clicking alerted me that the sky was indeed flickering as the atmospheric pressure was randomly changing! The sudden changes in atmospheric were infrequent and only lasted a few seconds at a time, but I know for certain that they occured. I am having trouble finding consistent patterns, patterns that might give an explanation for why the sky is behaving like this. I can think of a few reasons for why the sky may be flickering, although none of them have ever been associated with a bleached green color before. Still, it was worth staring at the sky and pointing at it and audibly express how I felt about the sky’s strange new activity! Which is to say, kind of excited, and kind of scared that it could be indicative of some impending sinister activities. One of the things a scientist needs to do is be able to express how they feel about things that they are observing, or things they have discovered. A few people in Mission Grove Park joined me, saying things like “did you see that flickering?” and “why is it suddenly green, I liked it better when it was a cool deep red color” and “for the ninth time, man, it wasn’t a cool deep red color, you just had those ridiculous sunglasses on all day.”

One other thing happened today. This thing was...well, exciting from the scientific standpoint that sees strange occurrences that make little scientific sense exciting. But, before I explain what happened, I do need to give some background, as that is an important part of discussing scientific information. Since a few days ago, several subway entrances have been popping up all over Night Vale. Brightly lit stairwells littered with brochures about Night Vale’s new subway system have been suddenly appearing in street corners, out of what appears to be nothing. Cecil told me the police didn’t have any knowledge of this, and that there’s never been any records indicating that a subway system was being built by the Night Vale Transit Authority, or that a Night Vale Transit Authority exists at all to begin with. These subways have had me very concerned, but this afternoon, they had me the most concerned. Several people emerged from the subways, looking completely drained. As though their emotions and spirits had been thinned, diluted so much that they were shells of their former states of being. I did not know what may have contributed to this, but after pointing my danger meter at the brightly lit subway station (making sure not to get too close) for a few moments and biting my inner lip and saying “hmm” a lot, I found that there was something...very alarming about the subway. My danger meter began making a cacophony of noises, the types of noises it makes when there are very dangerous forces present, the same forces I found in Cecil’s booth the first day I came into Night Vale. When Cecil arrived to the mayor’s press conference about subway passengers appearing changed, I met up with him and told him that I suspected that the DNA of the riders had been washed out, emptied, drained of its contents. It would explain why they looked so lifeness, so shaken. I told Cecil that it was  _ not _ a good idea to use the subways, at least not until there was more of an understanding on where they came from, and what they were doing to its passengers. He smiled, and he smiled really kindly, in a way I hope people have mentioned to him before, and said, “you’re so caring, so reliable”, and tried holding my hand. I told him that was not something I could physically do right now, not with all of this subway pandemonium going on. It felt...it felt like too much. He nodded, smiled, and then let go of my hand. He didn’t hold on to it. He didn’t squeeze it. He didn’t tell me he was holding it because he loved me. He let go of it, and didn’t try holding it again during Mayor Winchell’s press conference. 

I...I thought about that moment, when Cecil said on the radio that he was going to investigate the subway station that had appeared across the street from his station. I thought about other moments to, the tender, meaningful ones we had experienced in the course of our very young relationship. I thought about how in such a short amount of time, he had already been so understanding, so kind, so wonderful, and...I was worried! Worried about him getting hurt by all of the things in Night Vale that he considers quotidian, and investigating events that are life-threatening, even if they are familiar to him. I called him as soon as he said that he was going to the subway station, amidst the horrible ground-shaking and flurry of insects and immense heat, to warn him, to try and tell him not to go. But I went right to voicemail the first two times, and then to the sound of what may have been a compressed audio file recording of a hornet nest on the next three. I l-left him voicemails, ones that I know now were incredibly frantic and therefore may have been difficult to understand. I told him that the subway stations were dangerous, and he should avoid them, but...but he went to one anyways, not caring about whatever ominous threats lay within them. I felt...I felt so many emotions in that moment, trying to call Cecil for several minutes. I felt upset, frustrated, confused, and terrified. In what felt like a long time but was, according to my watch, only four minutes, Cecil was back in his booth, back at his mic, alive, breathing, and sounding perfectly fine, with functioning, unemptied out DNA. And then...then he mentioned what had happened. He said…he said he entered the subway, and felt what he called the cosmic suffering of millennia. That he was witness to eras of countless births and deaths and wars and discoveries and kisses and plagues and knives and cold, empty void, seeing it all at once, and not making sense of any of it. But that he understood it fully, and it took years.  _ Years _ . He said it took years. T-the sound of him saying that, I...I am still trying to understand it, to wrap my head around it. To understand what he meant, by the last few minutes, stretched into eons, leaving him feel renewed. Apparently, all of the insects, and the immense heat was an express train arriving, and that was it. That boarding that express train that took him to that intersection of space and time, that middle of the universe...he said on his show that he felt better, wiser, and kinder for traveling there. As Cecil finished his show, I was shaking, and when he finally called me back, I...w-well, I was crying a-as well as shaking. I told him, or tried to tell him as s-speech was difficult, that I was glad t-that the experience had not been one that undid him completely, both emotionally and genetically speaking. But I also told him that I had been very scared for him, and I was worried that I would never speak to him again once he boarded the subway. I told him I had been very, very worried. And he told me that it was okay, that he was fine, that nothing terrible had happened to him, and that he was always a careful investigative journalist. Careful is the first thing an investigative journalist needs to be, he said. That is why he’d always be careful. And, a-also, if I wanted, he could stop over by my place tonight, just to say hi, and reassure me that he was in fact, physically okay, and it was not just wisps of a once familiar voice of a loved one whispering to me over the phone.

I told him that would be very nice, and also that he was a weird goofball.

**[exhales]**

I um, scientifically speaking, according to science and all...I really love him. 

**[tape recorder clicks off]**

* * *

 

**[tape recorder clicks on]**

Something very strange just happened.

No, no...strange is not a good word. Strange things happen in Night Vale on a daily basis. On more than a daily basis, really. What just happened was strange in such a way that it was apart from Night Vale’s commonplace weird activity.

_ Concerning _ .

Something very  _ concerning _ just happened.

I was out investigating a house that does not exist in the Desert Creek Housing Development. It seems like it exists, like it’s just right there when you look at it, and it is between two identical houses, so it would make much for sense for it to exist than to not exist! But I can confirm, scientifically, that it does not exist. We have performed most of the tests that verify whether or not a thing exists, such as looking in the direction of said thing and seeing it, though that is not always effective, as existence is tricky like that. I had actually initially been looking at the tumbleweed samples we collected a few days ago and was trying to figure out why they were so cold and buzzing and full of static, but Dave and Mark and Rochelle asked me to come over asking for maybe the fifty-eighth time to ring the doorbell, just to see what would happen. That was one of the scientific tests we had not performed yet, to verify whether or not a thing was real. Being able to physically interact with something with no scientifically downright bizarre occurrences is one of the most effective ways of seeing how real something is, actually! But since I am certain this house does not exist, as its danger meter reading is, “ _ **NO DANGER, NOT REAL, NO DANGER, NOT REAL, BUDDY!**_ ”, which means that the house may react much differently than a normal, existing house would react. I told them that when I got there, showing them the danger meter reading, and they just said, “fine, fine, how does five dollars sound?”

And of course, I had to tell them that was a very firm violation of scientific integrity. No scientific discovery should be pursued for any sort of financial gain! Science that is pursued in such a way is often not motivated by the need to discover something previously unknown, and a desire to share that newfound information, whatever it is, with the scientific and nonscientific community. Ringing the doorbell of this house that does not exist could answer many questions and raise incredible implications for all sorts of aspects of objects that exist and objects that do not, or at least, houses that exist and houses that do not. Ringing the doorbell for money would be an incredibly dishonest approach to a scientific experiment! Regardless of what five dollars is capable of buying, it is still money, and money should never be the motivator for scientific discoveries. 

However, scientific discoveries would never be made if risks were never taken! Risks are an incredibly large factor in trying to understand things not yet fully understood. If nobody wanted to ring the doorbell to see what would happen, then we would never figure out what will happen and understand more about the house’s existence, or lack thereof. Not to mention, our statistical analyses of what will happen if someone rings that house’s doorbell is 90% “probably nothing”. I put on incredibly protective scientific gloves used for the most volatile of things a scientist must handle. Mark said again, “really, really, if you want five dollars for doing this I’ll give it to you”, and I told him that this was a quest of  _ science _ , not  _ money _ . 

But before I could take a step towards the house, a woman emerged from the side door of the house talking on her phone! I thought she looked familiar, but I was not sure. I had definitely seen her before. We ran up to her, calling out to her as she walked quickly away from us and the house. At first, I hypothesized that she was panicked over something, perhaps something that was within that house. But then, looking at face more more closely, I saw she was not panicked, but  _ concerned _ . Her face was an expression of very firm  _ concern _ . 

She never responded to us. She kept talking on her phone, and...and she walked right through us! As though she were only a cold wind. As though she was a change in atmospheric air pressure moving from one level pressure to another and passing through physical objects, despite being a physical object to us. She then turned, and looked at the house she had just exited. Again, I had hypothesized this look to be panic, but no. Again, it was a look of concern. She looked so, so worried…

And then, before we could think to do anything else, she immediately ran away, still paying no attention to any of her physical surroundings, except perhaps the house that does not exist. It was very possible that this woman herself did not exist, or perhaps, this house, and this woman we saw, existed, but not in the same universe that everything else we experience exists in, and was simply in another time, in another part of space.

This, however, is unlikely.

It is unlikely because...the person she was talking to on the phone sounded like it was Cecil! I could hear her saying his name several times, while also describing an area I was not at all familiar with, but one that sounded incredibly disquieting. 

When she vanished from our sight, I contacted Cecil to tell him about what had just happened. I told him I was about to ring the doorbell after being called down to the Desert Creek Housing Development, and that Mark had offered me five dollars to ring the doorbell, which I had turned down, because of scientific integrity, which I told Cecil, but he just told me that five dollars could get a taco lunch at Jerry’s Tacos so uh,  _ whatever, rich guy _ . But then I told him about the woman who came out of the house that does not exist, and who I suspected she was talking to! Cecil told me that the woman I met  _ must _ have been his former intern, Dana, and that he was anxious, no, concerned, he was concerned, about Dana’s wellbeing, as he was unsure if she was alright. I told him that from what we observed, she seemed perfectly fine, and not in any immediate danger. She greatly concerned, but otherwise, fine. And a scientist’s observation, I told Cecil, is one of the most accurate observations that can be taken. And he told me that made him feel better, and he was glad that the people who had seen Dana, or some aberration of her, had been scientists.

I also hope that Dana is not in any serious, immediate danger. I may not know her well, but I know that she is important to Cecil, so she is important to me. 

**[tape recorder clicks off]**

* * *

**[tape recorder clicks on]**

It has been such a fascinating couple of days, scientifically speaking! Oh, so much happened!

A mountain suddenly appeared out in the sand wastes, with a bright red light blinking intermittently at the top of it. The mountain was tall, made of rock and height and pure awe! It was jagged, full of crags and nooks, looking the exact way a mountain should look, so hard to deny the existence of due to how powerful its time-worn presence is. The city officials of Night Vale seemed incredibly flummoxed by it, and many of the citizens in Night Vale actually acknowledged the mountain as an existing feature! They would point to it and say that it was certainly a mountain, if they’d ever seen one, which they actually had not, because they did not believe in them. Something about it seemed...familiar, though I was unsure of what it was. It was not deja vu, I was sure of that. It was more like the faint knowledge of something’s existence, something you are sure that you have experienced, but it is a memory so distant in the past that it is hard to come up with a clear memory.

This blinking red light was very interesting! Whenever it was shining, everything appeared completely red, as though the entire universe was illuminated by some red light. And then, as suddenly as it appeared, it left, making the universe appear as it normally does. And then, weird seconds later, the universe was lit by a red light. And a few weird seconds after that, it looked the way it normally does.  Soon after the mountain suddenly appeared, an alluvial floodplain materialized beneath it and stretched itself around Night Vale like a rattlesnake constricting its prey. The floodplain was strewn with bleached white bones of something I did not recognize (something with teeth, and wings, and too many legs and eyes) and wet patches that glinted with the blinking red light was illuminated. Speaking of those wet patches, they shook whenever a Masked Army rapidly approaching Night Vale got closer to Night Vale itself. At first, the army was far-off and distant, seemingly made up of beings who were close to the size of most humans, but it became increasingly clear that they may in fact be larger than most humans, and in fact, not human at all! As they got closer, the wet patches in the mud rippled and their reflections became distorted, indicating the encroaching arrival of this Masked Army. So many unusual and potentially dangerous and exciting things were occurring in one day! I had wanted to go out and investigate it, because there were so many potential explanations for the blinking red light atop the mountain and alluvial floodplain and approaching army, and so many scientific tests that could be run to figure out which explanations fit the situation best!

I would have gone out there with my portable experimentation kit as soon as I heard about all of the aforementioned scientifically interesting phenomena, but Cecil had reminded me that I had promised to make him dinner. Specifically, I had promised to make him coconut chicken with rice, because Cecil said he had never had chicken with coconuts before. I told him that it would not take me that long, a weird hour and a half, tops, and then poof, I would be back in time to make him dinner. Science does not take long when someone is incredibly motivated and excited about the prospect of discovery, and that is what I told him! And then, well...then he asked me to sit down, just for a second, or however long that was, because he needed to tell me something. I told him I really needed to investigate what was going on, but he told me that he really needed to say something to me. I really did want to go out into the sand wastes, but something about his expression made me feel that there was something he really needed to tell me. I was unsure of what that was, but if it was something incredibly serious, like something about our relationship, I thought that maybe I should spend a small amount of time hearing what he had to say.

“Carlos, I really love you,” he said, putting a hand on my knee because I said I was unsure about how I felt about anywhere else, “and being with you has been really, really wonderful so far. And part of the reason for that is because you care so, so much about your work. I can tell it’s something that matters a lot to you. When you get really excited about science things, your eyes light up and you start talking at length about it and, I don’t know...it’s adorable, Carlos, and it makes me happy. But, I just. Um. Carlos, I. I want to spend  _ time _ with you.”

“And I want to spend time with  _ you _ ,” I said, not completely understanding him, “are...are we not spending enough time together? Is that it?”

“Not exactly, no. I think it’s more that…”

“What? Is...is it something I am doing when we spend time together, Cecil? Am I...am I talking about science too much?”

“No, no, no,” he said, shaking his head, in a reassuring tone, “nothing like that. Like I said, I love it when you talk about science. It’s more that, um, well...I feel...I feel like you get distracted by it a lot. I especially feel that way when we’ve made plans and we’ve had to delay them or cancel them altogether because of something that came up in your work. And, well...Carlos, I really love spending time with you, and it’s always disappointing when we can’t do things together because you put science first a lot of the time. And I just think that...I think that maybe you need to put other things  _ besides _ science first. I mean, you promised you’d make dinner tonight, and that you wouldn’t let anything distract you. And just now you did, and even when you say it doesn’t take long it does a lot of the time and. And it makes me worry sometimes. Like there’s something I’m doing that makes you not want to be around me. I just...I wish you’d keep plans, Carlos. That’s all.”

“Oh…” I said, unsure of what to say, “I...I didn’t know that is what I was doing, Cecil. I...I just forget, when something really weird happens in Night Vale that needs investigating. The things that happen here are exciting, and it is very easy to get caught up in them while investigating them. It’s not you. I promise. It is never because of you. I didn’t know that it made you feel that way.”

“Hey,” said Cecil, rubbing my knee, “it’s okay. Like I said, I love how much you love science. I just think you need to put other things first, okay? I really love you and love spending time with you. I want to be able to do that on a regular basis.”

“I love you too. And I also love spending time with you. Talking with you is so nice. Just you talking to me is nice. It seems like you’re always talking, and...and I really love that. You have such wonderful things to say. If you want, I can um, I can look at the blinking light on top of the mountain and the floodplain and approaching army later. Do you think it’ll still be there later?”

“Oh, of course. If there’s one thing I know about the sudden appearance of strange and horrifying phenomena, it’s that they don’t go away for at least a day. Like a few years ago a gigantic ship anchor suddenly appeared out in Route 800, for like two weeks. It was super annoying.”

“How big was it, exactly?” I said, getting up to unwrap defrosted chicken.

When I was making dinner for him, Cecil told me about the abnormal things that suddenly materialized in Night Vale, to his knowledge. He knows  _ so much _ about his town, and has such a wonderful way of describing things. We had a really nice night, actually! After dinner we watched Donovan’s Reef, and Cecil talked through it, which was wonderful. I love hearing what he has to say on movies.

Oh, and, I did get to look at the situation early this morning, actually! I got close to the mountain itself and holding up a danger meter and saying “hmmm” while holding a capped Erlenmeyer flask filled with a faint pink liquid. I swirled it around a few times, so that the light was shining through the liquid, and that is when I remembered where I had seen this mountain before! It was in fact, not a real mountain, but a mirage. I remembered that when the clouds are in a particular formation, usually 78.3% altocumulus, and when the temperature has consistently been at 32.05556 degrees Celsius, it sometimes produces a mirage! Specifically, a blinking-light-mountain-floodplain-masked-army mirage! It was incredibly strong one, too! It lasted for quite a while, but it disappeared about an hour or two after I got back to Cecil’s place before Cecil woke up to surprise him with breakfast. I told him while making an omelette about how it was a mirage, and he told me that he was very proud of me and glad to be dating a really smart and handsome scientist. And then I told him he had to stop because he was being way too cute. 

The Masked Army however apparently was not a mirage! They were real! A real Masked Army! However, instead of being a malevolent Masked Army fast approaching Night Vale, they were simply passing through, and decided to stop in Night Vale for a bit, with a few taking a bus tour of Radon Canyon. 

They seemed very nice! I wonder if they will ever come through Night Vale again! There may be scientific questions that they could help me answer, and they might also be neat people for Cecil to interview for his show! OH, I should tell him that!

Also...Cecil and I’s one-month anniversary is coming up. I have been wondering what I should do for it! I really want to give him something! Something meaningful! Something that says a lot about our relationship, and how I feel about it, how I feel about us. 

I should...I should give him something that shows that I want to make time for him. That I will continue trying to make time for him. That the time I spend with Cecil is time I really enjoy, which is why I  _ want  _ to make time for him. Something Cecil can always look to to remember that fact.

Hmm.

Now that I think about it...what I just described was a watch. A watch is something that you look to to remember what the time is, and to keep track of that time, so you can know when you need to do something, something like leaving work at an appropriate time and getting home and getting ready for a date at Applebee’s that evening.

The clocks in Night Vale are very weird. In fact, I do not think any of them exist. To my knowledge, the wristwatch I brought with me to Night Vale, the one that is modeled after the solar system and is really wonderful and scientifically beautiful, is the only real clock in Night Vale. It...it is comforting to have with me. Or, well, it was. When I first got here, it reminded me that despite how strange and chaotic Night Vale could get, there were still consistent things that would always remind me that there is comfort here. My watch used to be maybe the only thing I found consistently comforting, but now, that is no longer true. Now the thing that is consistently comforting is not a thing, but a person. A person whom I love, very much, and a person who is always there, always familiar, always a source of repose.

Time in Night Vale is weird, and none of the clocks are real, and that is  _ okay _ . If anything, it is  _ exciting _ .

I think that the only real clock in Night Vale would make a  _ wonderful _ one-month anniversary present for Cecil!

**[tape recorder clicks off]**


	8. Tapes 33-35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO ALL! Sorry it's been so long since I have updated this fic! I've just been busy all summer! But I promise now that I'm back at school and not working I'll have a more regular updating schedule! Thanks for sticking with me! <3

**[tape recorder clicks on]**

**[yawns]**

Today has been, scientifically speaking, has been an incredibly eventful today. Today was a day that I decided to spend doing scientific research at home. Really important scientific research, actually, and scientific research that has sort of gotten away from me for the past couple of weeks. At least, I think it has been weeks. It is hard to tell. Time here, it’s weird, really weird.

Anyways, I did different types of home research with an extremely complicated scientific device that looks like a lawnmower. It is not a lawnmower, and that is something I want to make very clear! It just looks and sounds like a lawnmower and has a very similar mechanism to one. Which is to say, it is a wheeled device with an oscillating blade underneath of it that is used to cut the grass. This device is used to measure the effects of rapidly decreasing the length of grass in very large areas, for example, lawns, since they have a wide population of grass and other short plants. Something I have noticed about the grass in Night Vale is that is whistles upon being cut. Like all grass, it releases volatile organic compounds, which act as a first aid against the stress caused by cutting it down. But, unlike all grass, it loudly whistles in response to being cut as well. Today, I wanted to cut the grass to see how much it would whistle after not having been cut for a long time, and to see if grass length has anything to do with how much distress whistling it does. From what I noticed today, though, the grass’ length does actually impact the whistling, and the whistling itself seems like an audial response to trauma, coupled with the normal chemical ones. When the grass is longer, the whistling is louder, almost rivalling the sound of my lawn-based lab equipment! I felt badly, for cutting the grass and making them whistle again, and this time so loudly and painfully, so I tried to whistle along with the grass to show how I understood how they were in pain, and I also did not like having to cut grass, but I also have to, because overgrown grass and weeds can be a major problem for other types of plants in the area. I am not a botanist, but I know enough enough about plant growth to know that lawns need to be maintained, and next time I do experiments on the grass in the lawn, I should consider doing it before the grass got too long again and would loudly whistle in pain once it gets mowed.

I wanted to collect dust and hair particles after that, using a device that is also used to collect dust and hair particles for recreational reasons, called a vacuum. A vacuum is one of the most scientifically exciting devices that exist, using suction to collect even the smallest particles that are in a household, using low pressure! I am sure that most of the particles I am collecting are ones that I am familiar with, as they are particles that were on my living room floor, but collecting any data, whether it looks scientifically different or not, is incredibly important!

I had to organize all of my clothes, after that. There is so much pressure in the scientific community to look professional and look really handsome that an important part of being a scientist is having an organized closet to select professional clothes from! Another important part of being a scientist is having an organized closet to select relaxed, casual clothing from, because things like love and going on dates and meeting up with someone really special are important. There are a lot of important decisions that have to be made. Things about what can be worn with a professional workday lab coat, and what can be worn with a relaxed weekend lab coat. 

I was listening to Cecil’s show while I was organizing my extremely important scientific clothes, and from the sounds of it, much of Night Vale was uninterested in doing anything the entire day. I was unsure as to why almost everyone seemed so averse to doing even the smallest things, like moving, let alone, being interested in things that they were ordinarily quite passionate towards. Cecil--he’s  _ so handsome _ and his voice is  _ wonderful _ , maybe the most wonderful of all, even when he is slumped against his desk and barely mumbling into his microphone--also seemed too tired to put much energy into anything. 

As the day continued, I made some scientific notes of the things that seemed to be uninterested in doing anything. At first, it seemed like it was just the people of Night Vale, but then, other things seemed to be less interested in the basic functions of existing. Nobody was moving, the grass had stopped whistling, the birds stopped screaming, and it looked like for some people, even their insides weren’t moving. Then, other, non-living things seemed to become less interested in existing. My danger meter showed that the magnetic masses in the earth were going haywire, no doubt because magnetic fields themselves were taking the day off! Perhaps even the earth itself was taking a day off, slowing down in its rotations and throwing magnetic fields and gravitational forces off as they too decided to stop functioning properly. As gravity slacked off more and more, I decided it would be a good idea to look at the types of things that have collected in the gutters. Normally, they are very difficult to reach, but with gravity suddenly taking the day off, it was incredibly easy to look at everything clogged in the gutter, because I was floating!  _ Everything _ was floating! Everything not securely on the ground, at least. There were a lot of objects stuck in the gutter that I removed. Most of it was mud and clay, caked to the interior of the gutter that needed to be scraped out. Some of it was a collection of differently sized owl pellets. Some of was tiny shards of glass. And some of it was just really, really small marbles that depicted inside them a few frames from a black and white movie that I did not recognize. I had no idea what kind of things would conglomerate in my gutter! It raises so many important scientific questions, like how they got there, what their sources are, if they come during certain times of the year, and oh, just,  _ so many questions _ !

After I finished cleaning the gutter, the sun suddenly went out. It just...turned off. 

Suddenly.

Like a light bulb might suddenly go out. 

Scientifically speaking, a star of our size is  _ not _ supposed to just suddenly go out, to suddenly vanish out of the sky! The sun is supposed to crack open and a large, fiery lizard would crawl out of it, its massive weight crushing the sun entirely and causing it to collapse in on itself. Stars that just go out are so much smaller than ours, like the smallest one recorded, EBLM J0555-57Ab, a star about the size of the planet Saturn. I was about to go look for something that I could use as a light source and immediately begin scientific experiments that would offer some explanation to the sun suddenly going out. It was very, very possible that everything would end, in a dark crisis that resulted from the entire universe just taking a break from everything. Even if few things could be done, I had to do something to try and understand this bleak situation, because that is what a scientist does. And...and I worried, about Cecil. I was not sure where he was, but I um, I was worried that he might be as blase as the people who were motionless in the street, and I wished I knew where he was, and how he was doing.

But before I could find anything, like a glowstick, scientifically one of the best instruments used for lighting, and begin any kind of experiment, everything returned to normal. Just like that! Just like that, the sun reignited, the earth’s rotations resumed, the magnetic and gravitational fields snapped back into place, and I heard a loud, relieved gasp outside as everyone who had been previously prostrating in the street felt their bodies suddenly begin to pulse and live again. The sound of everything coming to life again, filled with a newfound vigor, was thrilling. I mean, I was still terrified, after what had just happened, and still filled with dread and horror over the idea of a world no longer on the brink of ending potentially ending. I could hear Cecil on his show, on the radio, which was on the floor after it had been floating, and Cecil was also okay. He was fine. Alive. Not in danger. 

I texted him, a little bit earlier, to let him know that I was also okay, and that, since today has been very busy and suddenly became very stressful, I feel tired, and I might take a nap. The thing about emotionally stressful circumstances, I t-think, is that they can be more tiresome than lots of physical activity, like home-focused scientific experiments. Worrying about someone, about an entire town, and entire planet, and an entire world is very energy-consuming, just not in a way that I think is held on the same level as physical exertion, and--

**[yawns]**

Mmm. I might save that for another day. Right now, I am, um, I am thinking about one thing. A-and that thing is taking a nap. It’s, um, it’s taking a nap, with one person in particular. One person who had me very worried, and someone who I would love to enclasp and fall asleep next to, because he is alive, and he is safe, and with me. I told him he can stop by whenever he wants, but I wanted to be awake when he gets here. 

But I am also very tired, and it is getting very difficult to stay awake. 

And, um, and the thought of waking up with his arms around me is, s-scientifically speaking, a  _ very _ nice one.

**[yawns]**

**[tape recorder clicks off]**

* * *

 

**[tape recorder clicks on]**

**[faint snoring noises]**

I understand that much of Night Vale is not something to be afraid of. Scientifically, it is maybe in the nature of people to want to assume strange, seemingly inexplicable things are malevolent. But I know that many things are not malevolent, and they just  _ exist _ . The lights above the Arby’s, the almost random times the sun sets every day, or the unfelt yet almost constant seismic activity. But other things, like the extreme amount of danger my danger meter has picked up in several places around Night Vale and the catastrophic events that sometimes threaten to envelop all of Night Vale...those are very much something to be afraid of. To a certain degree, I think that I have come to feel more comfortable in Night Vale. Not as comfortable as the people who live here are, and not even close to that level of comfort, really. But I have come to feel less in a state of constant fear, and more of a state of constant unease. Even in that state of unease, though, I still feel like I am in a state of constant fear. Cecil told me the state of constant fear never goes away when you live in Night Vale, though. It’s just something you get used to feeling everyday, until it feels familiar, so it’s hardly noticeable. And really, isn’t living in constant fear true for everyone, because we could hypothetically die at any moment? And I told him that he was right about that, but I still didn’t like being afraid for my life as often as I am. The average fatality units in Night Vale remain consistently the highest fatality units I have ever experienced in a place before, and given this scientific pattern of information, I think that maybe the fear and unease I feel in Night Vale is different from the types of fear and unease that accompany life normally. General fear and unease is, I think, even higher when there is someone in your life you really care about.  

Cecil was  _ really cute _ about me saying I really care about him. But it’s true, and it’s why I do not like worrying about him. I want to know he is safe, and not in danger, and after what happened today...I find myself worrying about him even more. 

The Sheriff’s Secret Police had an auction today, of a lot of contraband and seized property that they said they wanted to raise 7.3 million dollars from. I am not entirely sure on what it was for, because it sounded like birthday supplies, but they also wanted to buy a pinata that was heavily armored and could crush rebellions, so I really am not sure. Most of the items were pretty standard auction items, like furniture and novelty coins and carpets and a set of flying daggers. You know, the kinds of things you always see at auctions. 

But one of them...Lot 37, it was called...one of them was  _ Cecil _ , with no description. 

That auction item...it terrified him. And still does.

And it terrifies me.

I do not want to think about what that lot might involve the possession of. It is very, very hard to imagine what winning a person in an auction may imply. Scientifically speaking, according to science and probability and statistics, there are a lot of possibilities. But none of those possibilities are safe ones, or provide comfort to the person in question, or the people in that person’s life who care very deeply for them.

Cecil vehemently, adamantly wanted to win that auction. It was much better that he win it, than anyone else. The only person who can be the owner of their own self is themselves. A person is far from just a body. They are a collection of experiences, of reactions to experiences, of preferences, of unique traits that define the personality that manifests as blood and flesh and bones powered by electrical signals pumping through millions of neurons every second. Existing as an individual is a gift, and it is a gift that nobody except that individual should have control of. Even the people who care about them, the people who want them to be safe and not under the ownership of some stranger with money and a paddle, are far from eligible to  _ win _ that person in an  _ auction _ . 

But Cecil, he...he didn’t win the auction. 

He was vehemently and adamantly invested in winning it, but he was also very, very nervous. So nervous that while he was trying to make himself less nervous, so that he could raise his paddle and make a bid, he never raised his paddle, and lost to a single bid from someone else.

That was the most horrifying thing that happened today. Maybe the most horrifying thing that has happened in Night Vale in all the time I have been here. “The most” is a dangerous term to use in science, because one thing, one event, is never “the most”, because it a subject phrase and unaware of all of the other things and events that the future may hold, things and events that rival the one being discussed. But this...this feels the most horrifying. Because now, someone owns Lot 37, and it is not Cecil. Someone who is not a certain radio show host won a certain radio show host in an auction. Cecil has been in a lot of danger, and perhaps is in danger every day, as everyone who lives in Night Vale is. But now I am worried that he is in even more danger than the average citizen, because now, someone has won him in an auction. I worry now that he is unable to stay safe. I wish I could have done...something. I was out in the sand wastes today, doing another survey of the rocks found in Night Vale, and I did not find out about what happened at the auction until after Cecil’s show when...when he called me, very close to crying, I think. Maybe he was crying. It is hard to tell over the phone, exactly the expression someone is making and how close they are to physically expressing emotions in a way that is uncontrollable. I’m getting off topic, um, t-the point is, he...he was upset about what had happened, and told me everything, and I wish that I had done... _ something _ . I am not sure  _ what _ . I’m sorry for using vague, unscientific phrasing, but...I really am not sure what I could have done. But I wish I had done it. 

I just hope whoever won the auction will is not malicious, and will not inflict any pain or danger on Cecil. He worries enough about his own life, his own ability to freely exist, and his control over his place in the universe, that he does not need any extra stress. 

**[sighs]**

Something I have noticed about Night Vale is that something sinister and life-threatening can happen at any moment. Sometimes...sometimes the best that you can do, in Night Vale, is experience life in its current state of being and hang on to it. Maybe the future doesn’t matter. All that matters is what is currently happening, because the future in a town as unpredictable as Night Vale is, well, scientifically speaking, unpredictable. 

After Cecil had told me about what happened today, I told him that he could come over once I got home, if he wanted, and he did want to, very much. He was actually waiting for me, and time is weird, so I was unsure just how long he had been there, and he looked at his watch, the only one that works in Night Vale, and then and told me he’d been there since he got off work, about an hour ago, because he really didn’t want to be anywhere else, because he couldn’t stand to. 

I took his hand and led him inside, and I told him I wanted to help him feel better. We talked for a while. He did most of the talking. He talked about how today made him feel, about how afraid he was now, about how in a way, he did not know exactly what he was feeling, but it was overtaking his mind and existence almost completely. I told him that I was afraid, too. I was worried about him. I told him I really, really care about him, and that I  _ love _ him. A-and I told him that no matter what becomes of this, I will still love him, and still try to help him. I told him I was sorry I could not be there today, and if I could do it over I would have been there to help, and...and then he just hugged me. I, um, well, normally would not appreciate that, but given the circumstances, it...it was okay. I think I understood why. And he told me that he was just happy that I was there for him, that I was listening to him, helping him feel better, existing, and also, that he loved me. I told Cecil that I love him, too, and that I still really wanted to help him feel better. And Cecil said he’d rather just be quiet for a few moments, and just feel me next to him, and know that I loved him, and his unique existence, and nothing would change that. 

He has been asleep for about forty-five minutes now. That is just an approximation, because I do not want to wake him up by looking at his watch. I do not plan on waking him up, because this is the most relaxed he has been all day, and...and I want him to be relaxed, and to feel safe. That makes me feel relaxed, and safe. 

I think...I think I will ask him if he wants to spend the night, once he wakes up. He definitely needs to eat dinner sometime soon, because I do not think he has eaten much today, and he needs to eat. I should see if I can get up without waking him. His head is on my lap right now and he is snoring. It is definitely one of the cutest things about him. It is such a little thing, but...but it’s so exciting to learn small things about people you love. Having nap dates and learning little things like this has been very exciting. New relationships are a lot like science. With each passing day you learn a lot, even if it is just little things. And even the little things are exciting, because they are new things that you have learned, something you did not know before that moment and now are fully aware of. It is  _ so _ exciting. And right now...right now, I think this moment is an important one. One to keep in mind and hold on to as it is happening, because at any moment, something could suddenly change.

Maybe...maybe it is important to appreciate right now, and not think about what might happen.

**[hair ruffling]**

I love you, kitty. 

**[tape recorder clicks off]**

* * *

 

**[tape recorder clicks on]**

CARLOS: No, no, i-it um, it has been something I have been doing for a while. Scientifically, that is to say, according to f-facts and logic, it is very important to keep a record of your activities. I have very important scientific notes to make about today, t-that’s all. I j-just need to make some notes so I do not forget the specifics of what happened. Details are very important for furthering scientific observations, because the smallest details are incredibly important for understanding something through scientific observation. 

CECIL: Oooooohhh, okay. Do I need to be quiet while you’re talking?

CARLOS: No, no, not at all. A-actually, um, if you have anything you want to add, that would be really great! You’d um, hehe, you’d be like my lab assistant!

CECIL: I’d be your lab assistant? Like, I’d be a scientist?

CARLOS: Yes! I mean, well, you kind of already are a scientist. You are dating a scientist. 

CECIL: Carlos!!!

CARLOS: I mean it. A-and um, I bet you would look super handsome in a casual weekday lab coat.  B-but um, about today, um, John Peters--you know, the farmer?--he made a lot of announcements on his winter orange crops and the success of his recently planted orange grove. I did not know about this until Cecil emailed me and asked if oranges were a plant that could grow in the desert, because they are definitely not native to deserts. He’s um, he is so into science. I cannot believe he did _scientific_ _research_. 

CECIL: Awww!

CARLOS: A-anyways, I emailed him back, reminding him that I am a scientist, and I study science, not plants or nature, because I am not a botanist or a dendrologist. But I tried to answer his questions as best I could. I told him I drove past John’s Farm about a month ago, I think, time is weird, and there was nothing but acres and acres of rocky, cracked, flat ground. I did not see a single tree on his farm, meaning nothing natural could live there, let alone a bountiful orange grove, as oranges require a lot of water to grow properly. 

CECIL: And that really made me wonder where the oranges had come from. Clearly not John’s farm. His talk about one literally containing a key to a one-sided door in the middle of the desert, followed by many people rapidly blinking in and out of existence had me...concerned. It made me wonder if there was something off about these oranges, and something off about John, because he seemed like he didn’t care too much about the effects of those oranges. Only Night Vale’s booming new citrus economy. That’s all he talked about.

CARLOS: OH!!!

CECIL: Hm?

CARLOS: That’s right! John mentioned the oranges literally containing a key to a one-sided door in the middle of the desert. I think that perhaps it was not a physical key, but it definitely contained something capable of making anyone who physically interacted with oranges, or any orange-based product, would be thrust to wherever that one-sided door was. Something about the oranges linked them to another location in space and perhaps, even another place in time. 

CECIL: That definitely explains what happened to Adam Bayer, all the reporters, and our late intern Maureen. Well, maybe not “dead”. I said that she flickered out of existence, but maybe she just flickered into another existence after drinking that orange juice. That orange juice that just...turned into void. Oh, and, speaking of Maureen, she mentioned that the last time anyone saw John was when Dana encountered him...some amount of time ago. And nobody has seen Dana in a long, long time. Which led me to wonder something you told me a little later.

CARLOS: Yes, which was, the John everyone was saying was not the real John. When I talked to my team of scientists investigating the house that doesn’t exist--the one in the Desert Creek housing development that looks like it exists; like, it’s right there when you look it and it’s between two other identical houses, so it would make more sense for it to be there than not, that one--they said they saw John. Inside the house. They did not work up the courage to enter the house, but they looked in the window and saw him staring at a painting from a chair he was sitting in. They called his name, dialed his phone, and even knocked on the door, but...nothing. The John Peters who was selling oranges and orange juice, so much in fact that the Ralph’s was cleared of everything besides oranges and orange juice when I went there, was...someone else. Not the John Peters we know. 

CECIL: Yes...an  _ imposter _ . An imposter who burst into my studio trying to get me to eat one of his oranges, while ignoring my brightly lit “ON AIR, DO NOT DISTURB” sign. I swear, so many people just ignore that sign. 

CARLOS: How many times is that sign definitely lit though, Ceece? Like, how many times have you made sure it was on before you started talking?

CECIL: I don’t see your point. 

CARLOS: You’re silly.

CECIL: Anyways, he was backing me into a corner trying to get me to eat an orange, and I was  _ going _ to text you, to tell you that if I did not make it home, it’s because I flickered out of existence due to some fake John Peters with dangerous oranges, and it was definitely not because I was too busy to come home to you and relax and watch a movie or a documentary over your really wonderful home-cooked food, or just go out for dinner. And it definitely wasn’t because I didn’t love you. But, y’know, that’s a lot to write out in a text, so I just knocked fake John unconscious with my phone. And then Strex-affiliated management carted him away and that I didn’t see anything, and nothing happened, and also, the Sheriff’s Secret Police didn’t see anything, and nothing happened. I think right after that they recalled that orange juice because of the problems it caused. The problems being flickering out of existence, mainly, but I think lethargy and multiplicity were among the other inconveniences listed. Ugh. Anyways, it was about then I got your text about what we could eat tonight. Gosh. I love the emoji you attached.

CARLOS: That is my favorite emoji! I love seeing the Styracosaurus and Edmontonia chasing that early-80s Ford Mustang up the street. The scientific accuracy of the dinosaurs really makes the emoji seem more indicative of the emotion that they are conveying, which is, “this experience is a strange one, but the strangeness of it is incredibly exciting, though I understand for some people it make be shocking and scary, even funny, or not evoke any emotion at all, but to me, it is really exciting.”

CECIL: I know. It’s so cute. You’re so cute. I’m glad I was able to survive the attack from that fake John Peters and get here in time for dinner with you. 

CARLOS: I am too. I have been trying lately to let you know if I will be late, or need to cancel a date entirely because I am busy working. I really love going on dates with you, and...well, I mean, scientifically speaking, according to science and all, I, um, I really love you too. I love you enough that I also wanted to email you about getting some supplies for some... _ experimentation _ , later tonight. You know... _ scientific experiments  _ that require _ two people _ . Like clasping both their hands around a very hot, bubbling flask and w-watching the  _ experiment _ r-reach its apex, and then intertwining their hand and writing down the s-same long,  _ complicated  _ equation as they feel the h-heat of the bubbling flask in front of them. 

**[shaky breath]**

You know, that kind of experimentation.

CECIL:  _ Carloooooooooos _ . I almost read that part of your email on air! I got all flustered! I am a  _ professional journalist _ , and you had me blushing like a schoolgirl!

CARLOS: You are s-so cute...especially when you get excited about emails and texts from me on your show! I love how I can hear how excited you are in your voice. 

CECIL: That’s why I read it! I just got so excited seeing your response! And everyone needs to know that I love hearing from you, Carlos. 

CARLOS: And I love hearing from you too. Your scientific questions are very thought-provoking. And also very, very cute. 

CECIL:  _ You’re _ very, very cute.

**[moments of silence]**

CARLOS: Mmm. Cecil?

CECIL: Carlos?

CARLOS: So...after we watch this documentary on scatterplot matrices, which will be very thrilling, do you, um...well,  _ scientifically speaking _ , according to very firm scientific facts and objective, honeyed logic...d-do you still want to help me w-with um, well, with another...with another scientific experiment? A...a  _ scientific experiment _ ?

CECIL: A... _ scientific experiment _ ? You mean, like...like…

CARLOS: Y-yeah, I mean, if you want. I mean, I just got all my paperwork filled out. I can perform  _ scientific experiments  _ whenever, now. So, um...whenever you are ready is fine by me.

CECIL: Oh, oh, well, um, I mean...I mean...yes, I very much would like to perform experiments tonight. That would be wonderful. Is...um, is the tape recorder still on, Carlos? It’s not a problem, just, I was wondering if this was part of your scientific research. 

CARLOS: Well...it does concern the personal life of a scientist. And the personal life of a scientist is very intertwined with their scientific research. I would say it is incredibly important to my scientific research.  _ Very _ important. But also, thank you for reminding me that it was still running. I don’t want to run out of tape. **[kisses]**

CECIL: Carlooooos. **[kisses]**

**[tape recorder clicks off]**


	9. Tapes 36-39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO!!!!!
> 
> I know I have not been updating in a manner that can be considered "regular", and for that I apologize! I've been very, very busy with school! I promise though, my interest in writing this has not waned in the slightest! ÒwÓ
> 
> Normally, I don't really intend on doing live shows, but since Condos is so important as an episode, I thought I would add it as a chapter! I hope this plays out alright! I really tried balancing the information we get in Condos from Carlos with information that's sort of open to more thought, but I did wanna keep his monologue in there since it is very important. OoO
> 
> Enjoy!! I really liked writing this!

**[tape recorder clicks on]**

I have been thinking lately.

Thinking about things other than science.

Well, thinking about science, and how science can be applied to other things, in how we think about them. So, thinking about science, and things other than science, at the same time, because that is how scientists think.

Scientists think about science a lot. Science is the thing scientists think about the most, because is important for scientists to always be aware of how science can explain the world around them. So much about the world is difficult to explain, maybe impossible. Not knowing something is one of the best things a scientist can do, because it means that they recognize that something is difficult to understand. And when a scientist understands something is difficult to understand, they try to understand it. Often, things are not the way that scientists perceive them to be, because we know so much little about the universe, even though there is a lot that we do know. This not knowing, it...it makes things difficult to understand.

Trying to understand a person, and your relationship with that person, is a lot like trying to understand science. A person can be very difficult to understand, because that person is not you. They have different thoughts and different feelings. And like science, it is not possible to completely understand someone. It is not really possible to completely understand yourself, either. But I think it is possible to understand the relationship that you share with someone, and to understand where your relationship might...might be headed next.

That is the thing that is not science that I have been thinking about lately.

I love Cecil.

I really, really love Cecil.

I have been thinking about what our relationship has been. I have been thinking about how I felt when I first met him, how I felt when I got to know him, how I felt when I realized I loved talking to him and loved him, how I felt telling him that I loved him. And then, how I felt when I started dating him.

All of those feelings have been very good ones.

I know, I know that things are not perfect. There are things I know could be different, and could be perfect. But...but things are still wonderful. Even if they’re not perfect. _Cecil_ is wonderful. I have been trying to make dates on time, and letting Cecil know if I will be late, or cannot make it. I have also let him know that _his_ watch will determine whether I am late or not, because the watch he has is the only one that works in Night Vale, so if he thinks I am late because his watch says so, then I am definitely late, and time is not being weird for him specifically, and he is not being overbearing. When I told him that, he smiled, and he kissed me, and just said he liked going out with me and wanted to do it regularly. And I told him that I want to go out with him, too, and wanted to go on dates regularly. Because I really love going out with Cecil. I love holding his hand and listening to his smooth baritone describing things. And he always wears the most _handsome_ outfits on dates. I really love it when he wears really soft shirts, the kind you can rub your hand across and feel give into the palm of your hand because that is how soft they are.

B-but anyways, um, I really love Cecil, is w-what my point was. I love him so much. I feel so much love for him. A kind of love I h-have not felt in a long time. I think, m-maybe, a love I may not have felt with anyone else before. A-and that is why, um, that is why I have been thinking lately of asking him something. I, well, um, I, you know, what with science and all, I, uhh, um...I want to ask him if we can make a home together.

A home, it’s...it’s just a group of objects, connected through a shared experience of time. And that shared experience of time contains all possible tenses. Past, present, and a perceived future. I...I have not thought about what it might be like sharing a home with someone else in a long time. But...but sharing a home with Cecil, based, scientifically, on how much I love being in a relationship with him, would be very wonderful, I think. There are things that come with sharing a home with someone that are really beautiful. Like waking up next to them in the morning and seeing them all pillow-faced with ruffled hair, and feeling them gently reach over to gently hold your cheek in their hand and smooth out the hair in front of your face. Or cooking dinner for them and feeling them press into the small of your back as they hug you from behind, not saying anything, just holding you. Coming home to the same place every day as that person, spending every day in a close vicinity with them and just living with them...that is something that is wonderful. Something wonderful I would like to share with Cecil.

A home.

I do not know if he feels the same way.

I, mmm, I need to talk to him about this. It is important. Very important. I, uh, ah, I do not know when to call him. I should do it soon, when it is right. I am not sure about right now. Maybe right now is too soon, for Cecil. And right now, as in, as soon as I am finished with this recording, I need to do some experiments on the cactus thorns that keep getting lodged in the side of the lab’s building. I am not sure where they came from, but that is what I am going to find out. That’s what science is. Like, that’s the official definition. From the official scientific dictionary. It’s “I don’t know, but I’m trying to find out, okay?”

But...the definition of science has a lot of applications outside of science, when you think about it. And thinking about science and how to apply it is what a scientist does. Maybe what I have been thinking about lately has not completely been something completely separate from science. Maybe it’s just another thing that you can think about scientifically. The scientific way of thinking can be used to think about things in a variety of other fields. Maybe thinking about things scientifically is not the only way to understand things like this, personal things, but...it is definitely one way to think about them. One way that might help me find out when the right time for this will be.

OH, and, and, one more thing! This thing is very important because it impacts how the rest of these tapes are going to sound, which is to say, they are going to sound different!

I put in new vocal cords recently. I put them in myself, easy. Because it is very important for scientists to update their vocal cords once in a while, since throat spiders are a serious risk. On average, throat spiders cause about 56% of all cases of laryngitis, about 11% of other types of throat conditions, .25% of all deaths, and 100% of all cases of discomfort due to the presence of throat spiders. That is why replacing them and making sure there is no possibility for them to settle down is very important!

I, hmm, mmm, I...have I told Cecil this yet? Or has he just thought I have sounded different recently for no reason?

**[tape recorder clicks off]**

* * *

 

**[tape recorder clicks on]**

There are condos for sale, right here in Night Vale!

That is all I know!

Because that is all the brochure said! It just said “CONDOS FOR SALE”, in black, all caps, scrawled in a thick scrawl.

I am outside the Condo Rental Office, located inside the abandoned gas station on Oxford Street. I have a business casual lab coat on, because this is incredibly important scientific business. There are a lot of other people here, though for reasons that are different from investigating something for science. Probably because condos are exciting. Everything that exists is exciting, really, but condos are especially exciting! Nobody here seems to know what a condo is, either. A lot of people are asking what a condo even _is_ , but their excitement is there nonetheless!

Today seems to be an especially dangerous day in Night Vale, a factor that may or may not be related to the condos. With science, everything may or may not be related, though on a very basic level, all things are related, even seemingly impossibly different things. I actually decided to see if the condos were related to the fatality outside today, because it was 19 Standard Fatality Units higher than normal, according to my Danger Meter. I have that right out in front of me, with a few other devices. They are all devices that measure a lot of scientific data about people. The fatality and therefore danger of something is one thing that can be measured, but there are lots of other things I am measuring, like humidity, relative unease, which is different from danger, ultraviolet rays, excitement to anxiety ratio, tempestuous emotion index, and lots of other scientific properties. These devices all work through, ahh, science.

Science.

Ahh, science.

That is how they work.

There are many other places that could be the source of this increased fatality, of course, but I wanted to start here at the Condo Rental Office. Partially to analyze everyone here with the devices I have, and um, well, um, partially because I, um, scientifically speaking, I mean, I am looking for...for a place that might accommodate more than one person. Y-y’know, because of science and all, I just think, I, well, I believe, I feel that...I just...I think that maybe the time to talk to Cecil about this, um...I think it might be soon. Maybe it is right now. I am still pretty far back in line, as there are many people ahead of me, many of them shouting about how they do not know what a condo is and how they would like to see a condo, right now. When I try to analyze the people ahead of me, I notice a considerable rise in the Standard Fatality Units, though I am not sure if the rise is from them, or if it is from something else that is within Night Vale and covering all of it with an increased degree of fatality. I have seen specific people and the general area of Night Vale be characterized with higher than normal fatality before, but it is difficult to determine the source of the fatality with this many people around and therefore so many potential sources.

Cecil’s show is on right now, and I can hear it through the seemingly broken speakers that are hanging above the gas tanks at this gas station. I was about to listen to this show on my phone when the speakers in the gas station suddenly started to broadcast his show. I checked the speakers with my functional electrical circuit meter and it showed that they were very clearly not working, and yet, I could hear my boyfriend’s wonderful voice coming through the speakers, as clear as a solution of dissolved sodium chloride. Oh, oh, and my functional electrical circuit meter is a meter I recently started using, since so many electric-powered objects in Night Vale seem to work even when they are unplugged or broken completely. Something is causing them to function from the inside, activating their inner workings, though that something is definitely not electricity. This is another meter that works through, ahh, well, it works through science.

Oh, oh, oh, right, right, I was going to call him!

I think I will call him now. The line is moving faster now. And this is very important. I know his show is on, but, this is a very important thing I need to tell him, I just, um, I just kept forgetting. There have been a lot of experiments I have needed to finish up that took a while. I wanted to tell him, directly, but it is difficult to talk about things like this directly. With personal matters as personal and important as this, talking in arcane codes and signals is easier than being direct. What it means to be a scientist is to use arcane codes and signals. I, well, I mean, scientifically speaking, and all, according to science, I, I just, I, um. I, uh, this is just very difficult to talk to him about. It is difficult to understand emotions and how they coalesce in a person, whether that person is me, or Cecil, or anyone. I cannot explain this sort of thing directly. This sort of thing is difficult to explain directly, and not using scientific codes and signals that all point to one common thread.

But, I need to call him now, right now, before it is too late for me to even ask him if he is maybe interested in this. This is so sudden, so sudden, but this is also important, and I need to call him and ask now.

**[tape recorder clicks off]**

* * *

**[tape recorder clicks on]**

The condos...they are not what I thought they would be at all. The one that is being shown to me is just a giant black featureless cube. It’s right where the vacant lot behind the Ralph’s used to be. The faces of the cube are completely black, and they ripple and bubble like a liquid might, but with darting lights inside of it. It looks like the night sky, condensed into a cubic form, held still where the vacant lot behind the Ralph’s used to be.

There are some other people inside the condos. Before they entered them, they were unsure, not wanting to press their hands or otherwise dextrous appendages into their respective condo. But once they did, their whole body seemed to willingly slide into it. Once inside, they went still. Their whole body went limp, with their eyes glazed over and faces slackened. All of the condos that have been sold floated upwards and have a sign on them, all red, with white letters.

 _Condos:_   
_A perfect kind of human_   
_A perfect kind of life_ _  
_ Get yours today!

A perfect kind of human...a perfect kind of life.

Mmm.

I have thought about that, sometimes.

Perfection, I mean. I have thought about perfection, and what it definitely is not.

I don’t think perfection is forgetting to call someone you deeply care about. I don’t think perfection is not showing up to a date without letting the person you know won’t be making it. I don’t think perfection is not being direct with someone, because talking about some things, some personal things, is difficult. I don’t think perfection is telling someone who loves you very much, someone you love very much in return, that you don’t like feeling their hand on your shoulder, and don’t like how it feels when they hug you with no warning.

Maybe if things were perfect...if things were perfect, then things would be easier. Maybe if I was perfect, then Cecil would have someone who he loves, who he deserves.

He deserves...well, it’s, um, it’s hard to really...understand what it is that he deserves, directly. I think...I think what he has is an endless row of Erlenmeyer flasks, some of them bubbling, some of them not, some of them overflowing. There’s notebooks with numbers underneath them, and above, dials with numbers. There is no pattern to the numbers, though. The numbers are seemingly random, out of place. Nothing can be ascertained from them. Everything is, at best, a wild approximation. Everything, yes, is on some level of probably, but here, the level at which things lie on “probably” is exponentially unreliable.

The cube is right here, in front of me, only about about half a meter from where I am standing. I...I am reaching forward, to try and understand this, to try and understand _what_ a condo is here in Night Vale, and _what_ it means by a perfect kind of human, a perfect kind of life.

**[tape recorder clicks off]**

* * *

 

**[tape recorder clicks on]**

A̺̼ ͈̥p̼̘͕̻er͖͍͙̲̬̳̠fȩ͕͚̥̘̟̰̼c̘͇̳͈̝t̸̩̘͔ͅ ̛̗͈̱k̭̲̞̮in͞d̼̪̬̲̻͚ ̷̞̖̺̻o͔̭̭f̙͈̻ ̵̲̲͚h̡̯̜͉̤u̥̝m͍͉̹͕a͉n͎̳̰̥̹͘.̵  
̞   
Ạ̧͈̯̝̙̮̯ ͏̦̬̮͉̱̥̥p̴̝̲͉̬̫̗e͙̥r̺̗̲fḛ̯̯̼͡c̤͇ͅt̷̮̱ ̣͔͈ki̸͖̮̰̤͓̠̖n̮͉̬̥͉ͅd͇ ̶̮͓͔͚͇o̷͙̮̦f͈̗̦̝ ̴͓͚̼l̤̙̗͈̯̲̳͜i̶̭f͕̮̬̳͜e̻͇̭̻.҉͚̺͇̩̗   
̻   
̯̪I̺̟̪̯͓̱̳ ̷u͎̺̗̙͉̗͟n̺̤ḏ̤̝͚e̡̲̖̯̞̺̯r̶͓s͈͓͈̘̕t̪͚̬̘a̠n̩̫̲̹̩d̸ ͎n͍̮͙̤̩̟̙o̮͕̯w̻̹̩̤̯.̲͔̲̫͘   
̗̖͖   
T͖͕͇͍ͅh͕͟e̟r̻̹͉͙̣e̢̖ ͖͉̻̲̪̺͠a̦̺̝̘̟ͅr̛̙͎̗̩̲̘͇e ̴̳e͓̬̭͍͔͉̩n͉͓̭̟̝̝͔d̲̺̗͈̕le̙͚͚̰̣̩̳s͇̣̤͉͖̖͖s̱̠̰̗͢ ̲͚̼͓ro̡̪͕̦̙̯̖ws͉͎̰̣ ̡̺ͅo͚̦̫f̭̱̞͓͢ ̼̙ḅ̺͚̖e͓̹͖̗͔̯̫a̷̪ḳ̜̥̻̠͞ͅḛ͓̗͈̠r̮̠̺̯̦͜ş͍̩̯͕.̵̯͓͖̻ ̺̯͈̖͎̭̥̕Ę̖̼͇̹̤̦̖n̲̠̗͞d̳̩̞͔̹̜l͍̤͎̕e̺͉ͅs҉̥s͚̩̻.̵ ̺͔͓̰ͅE͎̠a͇c̲̣h̵̙̪ ̬̥̰o͍̰̖̘̼͉n̦̙e̳͙͓͈̗̼ ̦͓͎̠̝i̯͚͍s͎̬ ͞b̝͓̺ͅu̹̣̮͕̖̣̯͡b̖̱̙͖̘̤bl̘̬̘̘̕i̶̺̯̼͙̝̦n̞͈̻̼g͇̩̯͓.͓̠̱̭̘͕͠ ͕͇̹̤̞̫̲B̴u̵̹b̜̙̩̹͎̠̙ḅ̻̩͇l͘i̼̲̜͓̯ng,͕͇ ͏̩͈̝g̨͉̖̱̖ͅe̠ṋ̠̜͎̤͡ṱ̵̰͍̩l̨̥̟̳y̧̼̮̰͙̣,͙̲̙̥̪̥̟ ̡̼͎͇ͅb͉̦̠̳͚̫u̠͍̜͉ț̡̮̯̹̱͓ͅ ͈̝̺̬w͇̳i̳̭ͅt̙̮h̘̟̩̱ ҉̞̠en̢̮̥͉̖̬ọ̷u͈gh f̤̣͉̙̰͘o̺r̳̖̱ͅce͏̣̻ͅ ̻͚̪͉̠̜͍t͓̭͓̟͇o̦͈͕̯̥ ̷͇͖r̢̦͉̖͓̙̺ͅe͉͈͍̮̤̕g͏̩͔̭̺ͅi̪̥̱̰͇s̨̺t̳̺̯̱͢er̪͖͎̭̣̜ ̱a̻̮̫̻̟̙̙s̬̭ ͕̱̮a͎͍̪͙͕͟ ҉r̜͕͎̜̪̳ea̗͖c̸̤͖̲t̫̜͘i̞o̳̠̟n.̜̗̟̬͚̯̗͡ ̷͔̬͍̜̪͈   
̱̝̭   
̛̙͔̝̤͓T͓͔͕̕h͎͉̘̟͟e͚̜̬͉̰̦ ̯̮̹̬̝n̨̩̜̩̯̟̦u͍̟̮m̡͎̱̙͙͙̹b̥̱͉̙͡e̼ṛ̗̗̖s̗͙̯̠ ̡̥͇͈͖i͚͉n̘͍̮͚̯ ͚̟̮ṭ̷͖h͜e̡̻͇̖ ̷̰n̛̺̗͉̯ͅo̢͖̼t͕̳͚̞̼e̯͍͔̯̤̘͠b̥̖̣̩̭̜ͅo͓̤o҉̣̰̥̳k͙̱̝͉̬̪s̗͝,͟ ̖͖͉̤̝͎ḁ̲n̖͓͚͇͟ͅͅͅd̦͙̠̬ ̟͚̖t̖̱̹̖̭h̜e̗̰̭̫̯̳ ̷͕̝̺̫̣̮n̴̥̮̮̫̞̦um̧̖͔̰͖̝ͅͅb͞e͇͈͕̙̼̕r̯̮͖̫͠ͅs̘͕̜̕ ͙̺̻͍̰a̴̗b̟̻͕̖̗o͙̼͓͡v̞̬̬͔̫̰e̪̥̖͕ ̤̟͙t̢͇he̩̼m̶̠͍ ̪͖̳͡o̘͓̺͍̫̤̞n̰̯̘̼ ̳̱a͇̯͖̯̺̗ ͏̹͉̜ͅdi̵̳̬̘̣̩̣a̲͚l̪̜.̠̖̝̯   
͉̩̖̥͖͙͚   
̲̤̺͕̣T͍̲̫̳͜h̞̺̹͢e̯̖̖̙̩ỵ̫͉ ̣͡ar̙̫̖̞̰̟͟e ͓̞̻̗̹c͎̱̲o̪̝̺̳n̹͉̖̼̣̳̻s͎̼͓͎̣͝i̸̻ͅs̥̲̩t̶e͏ṉt̴̬͔.̛̭̠̳̣̩ ͏̤̟̠͎̥̫L̮̰̤̬̲͔͢ͅo̘̥͕̦̬c̙̹͚̲̹̫k͉̝͠ed̼̟̮̪̮ ̰i̥̩̲͈̱̤͔n͚͔t̛̰̭̗̼o̝ ̮̤a̢ ͏̪̠s̼̲̪͝e̵͙͖n͎̮s͏͕ị̖͜c̳͍͍͇̺͈͝ạ̸͕̗̦̻͖l̨̗̻ ͎̪̰̤p̞͍a̻̠̱̻̰ͅt͢t̯̣̘̫e̦͎̞͍r̨̤̻̫̟̖͚̩n̠̱̘͢ͅ.̙ ̜͔͇̜Ş̼̟̤̻͎͚͇o̲̙̤͓͇͕͟m̙͎͞et͍͖̹h̭i̟̤͙ṉ̼̬̯ͅg̞̟̤͖̙ ͓̺̰̦ṱ͕̫͉̤ͅh̝̱͕̟̦̫a͇͍̤̻̪̣̩t͔ͅ ̳̱m̪̯a͏k̗͢e̖̫͈̝̘̻͠s͘ ̨̯͙̺̘̹̱͎s̞̘̠̭̤̠e͈͎n̸̞̟͚͎s̼͍̭͘ͅe̵̳͖̗̤̘̺,̗̙͎ ҉̖a͎̪̕n̼̬̝̮̲̝d͍ ̠̰̣̳̥͉̳c̟̤͉̪̗ͅa̪̙̫͉̗n̕ ̲͓̼͍̭̺̗b̘̱̳̥̠e͔͖̮͇̠̺͎ ̴̟͚̫u̞̺n̜̘̺̱̣̦d̛e̲̗̰͕͔r̗̻͠s͓̫͖̫͈̯̲t̹͟o̮͕̳̼̜od̵͇̝̠.̹̗̩͇͉ ̛̥̝   
͓̭̪̲͜   
҉̰̖̖͈̺̯T̟͇͈̣̻h̴i҉͈s͓͎͖͍̫̪̰ ̴c̖ͅon̰͙͠d̙o̴̩̞̻͔̬ ̨͚̭̳̭̤̰i̗͚̬̜̹̮͕s̥͟ ̼̫̮̟̼̟pe͕̥̣͓͈͝ͅr̲͍̜̦f̱̲̳̼͖̰e̶͉͎̖c̛t̶͇̙͎̳̗͖̮.̹̝̗͟ ͏͇͕͇I̜͔̦͇t̝͈̯ ̳i͕͇̹͢s̹̦̱̻ ̛͙p̹̗̥̦̖e̼͕̞̲̰͢ṟ̶̭̘̪̤̩f͉͕̞̖e͙̫̖̦̬̼c̹̜̲̲ţ̖̜̲ͅ,̟̫̱̞̯̤ͅ ̘̳a̝̻͚̲͈̣͘n͇̤͎̯̤d͟ ̤̬͍̻̯̭͖Ḭ̴̼̱̖̤̼̖ ͍̻̘̙̞̭u̘ͅṋ̨̭͓d̸͔͓̠̯e͓̹̣̤͚r̢s̪̰t͜a̢̪n̪̲͙̕d̷̦̲̫͉̗̱.͖͖̼   
͞   
̮͜I̝̭̘̩̦͇͔ ̵͓͔͎̬̱ͅw̷̤͈̜̜i̼̝̭͈l̻̱͇̯̪̦l ͈̪̠̮̝g͖o̶̫̺͎ͅ ͉̫̣i̢̱n̖̘̖t͉̤̯͈͓͇o̼͍̞͔͖̲ ̩̦̺͍t͖h҉̹̗̻̖̦e̵̖̺̳̹͉ ̝̹̜͎͘c̯o̧̬̼̩̺n̘̰̣͔̺͡ḓ̫̺͈̬o̫̦̹̻͕̭.̸̖̱̙̥ ̟͉̺I̬ ̙̩̘ẉi̧̼̥͈̗̭̹ļl͙͍ ̹̫g̣͍̙̜o̟͙̫̭̠͍ ҉͔͎̖̠̣͔̫i̫n̰̪̹͇̝̮̕,̺ ̳̱̣̹͉̪r̮̜̖̞̬i̛̩͈̩̣ͅg̘̫h̲̻t̯̟̰̰͓̻͢ ҉a̳̤f̶̜̦̰̳t̶e̬͖̙̙̺̳r̩̮̜͘ ҉͕̠͍̠I̸̦͎͖͖̮̜ ̬t͚̯͠e̹̣͚̺̟̱l̦l̷ ̙͚̱̩͢ḩ͈i̱͉͖͜m͈̫̼̝ ̘̘̼̩͝ͅt̪͎h͈a̫̺t͚͍ ̱͈͔͖̲̮͟I͔̗ ̘g͍̼̯͎o̟͈͔t a̵ ̯̞̘̘̠͡ç̱̥on̢dǫ̪̭̝̪.͉̣͡ I ̝͞g̶͈̩o͏͉̯̯͙t̤ ҉̲̳̦a͍̭̯̜͓͎̣ ̥̝c͖̫͓̺̯o͈n̲̖̩̤͕d̟̰͖͉̹ͅo͎̭̟̗ͅ ̫̩̲͔̮͓̕f͎̘͙̙o̠̩̩͍r͖̘͉̭̼͕ ̙̩̖̻͍̻͢ͅu͏̣̠͔͇̗̝͇s͍͟. ͕͉̳͇̹̯An̯̹̤͍̻̮͖͞d̘̤̜̜̰̮͚ ̨͇̬͎i̖t͙̰͇̥̖ͅ'̰̫͙̬s̶̮̘ ̰̠̺p̧̜̟̘̣̙e̗̣͚̖r̹̯̫̲f̱͇̠͎̪̭e̞̠̣̹̟͓͠c̷̣̣t̰̺̖̘̲͢.̗͙̣

  


**[no further audio is recorded after this point]**

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**[tape recorder clicks on]**

Science...it’s like a person, isn’t it? I said a few days ago, or at least, what felt like a few days ago because time and really nothing is real, that the skills you use in science are also important in relationships, because often in relationships, there are things you do not understand. But I forgot one of the most crucial parts of science. Maybe one of the most definitive aspects of it.

Science is not perfect.

Science is not _supposed_ to be perfect.

Science should have lots of flasks that don’t bubble, or bubble too much, and have numbers that do not fit any kind of pattern, that do not make sense. If science were perfect, and an experiment worked every time it was attempted, then perhaps there would be nothing left in the universe that needs to be understood. What makes existence so exciting is not that it is easy to understand--that it’s perfect--but the opposite of that. Much of existence is very difficult to understand, and not knowing everything about something. Existence is so exciting, because, one day something new will be discovered, something new that will give more questions on how that something exists! When something is difficult to understand, that is maybe one of the best things that a scientist can encounter. It means that there is a need to try and understand it, using facts, using logic, using love, using compassion.

And I think that people are like that, too.

Imperfect.

Difficult to understand and make sense of.

The endless rows of Erlenmeyer flasks, each bubbling, with a set of numbers below and above them on notebooks and dials...that was perfection, and the way to it. But none of it was good. None of it was what science was, or what people are. People...are not inert, and they are not going to make sense all of the time. Even the people we love, maybe, especially the people we love, are ever-changing and imperfect. Sometimes, they will do things that disappoint us, that frustrate us, but that is okay. That is love. An imperfect but powerful force between two imperfect people.  

Being imperfect...that’s okay. No, no, okay is not a good word. Being imperfect is right. It is human.

I looked up at Cecil when he carried me out of the condo. His eyes were narrow with concern, and truthfully, I am not sure how long he had been carrying me when I looked up at him. But I know that we were outside of the condo. I knew that were in this wonderful, imperfect world that will upset and disappoint us. I reached up and held his face. My handsome boyfriend Cecil’s face. His wonderful, imperfect face, with wrinkles and crow’s feet and scarring.

“Hey,” he said, softly, with concern, leaning into my hand, “well...”

And I said, “well…”

Then I said...well, actually hold on. I recorded it. F-for um, for ahh, scientific reasons.

* * *

 

"Cecil? I was thinking about the series of ongoing actions that we perceive as the present, and the amassing of memories that we treat as the living record of the past and the hopes and dreams and assumptions that we project as the future. I was thinking about time. And about how it means something to so many people, and about how it’s so finite, and also so infinite.  
  
I was also thinking about space. About how it is nothing, and then, a point which is just a single spot within the nothing, and a line which separates the nothing into two nothings, and how a plane is a patch of nothing and an angle just where two nothings meet, but all those things combined, with an object of points, lines, planes, and angles, an object with length and width and depth that can take up actual space. Until that object becomes something made of nothing – within nothing.   
  
An object can be a wall, a floor, a roof, a bed, a table, a dog, a door, a rug, a…a home.   
  
And then, I thought about how a home is just a group of objects connected by a shared personal experience of time – our past, our present, our assumed future. A home is…I mean, uh, scientifically speaking, speaking form the point of view of mere facts and logic, and um…hmm. You know, what with science, and all…uhhh, I– I– I just thought it was…time for us to…make a home together."

* * *

 

And!!!!!

And he said yes!!!!

He said, “Yes, yes, that would be...well, that would be _neat_!”

And then he added, quickly, “"But somewhere else, OK? A duplex, or an apartment…I don’t think a condo.”  
  
And I told him, “No, not a condo.”

I told him something after that. Something I said while holding his face and smiling at how excited and cute he was. And something I will not say on this recording. Some things belong to just two people. Something there that two people share and its theirs alone.

The black, featureless cubes--the condos--sunk back into the earth, taking the people trapped inside of them along with them. The previously recorded additional 19 Standard Fatality Units have subsided now that the condos have disappeared. I had a theory that the condos may have been the cause of the increased fatality in Night Vale, once Cecil and I were safely out of it. I am looking at my danger meter right now, and Night Vale is at its usual 615.13 Standard Fatality Units. When I went back into the vacant lot, I noticed that the fatality of the area was also at 615.13, but it occasionally jumped forwards to 634.14 Standard Fatality Units, briefly, for what felt like a fraction of a Night Vale second, before going back to 615.13.

Cecil told me that the Sheriff’s Secret Police reported that they became something else. Not black featureless cubes. The sound some sand makes, and the tone it takes during very specific times of the day. And going through the area the condos used to be in, the place that is once again the vacant lot behind the Ralph’s, has the faint sound of the voices of everyone trapped inside the condos. If you reach out and feel for those people, then you will see the place they are in. The place that is far away, and impossible to visit, and in a way that cannot be explained, absolutely perfect.

And that is wonderful news. Maybe the most wonderful news of all.

**[tape recorder clicks off]**

 


	10. Tapes 40-43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO! I am so sorry that my posting for this fic has been so sporadic! Again, I PROMISE it is not due to waning interest! It's just due to being really busy with school and not having as much free time and energy to write. ;w; These chapters take a long time to write and it's much easier to get it all done in one sitting for me instead of doing it sporadically over a couple of weeks, so I need to find days where I can just set aside an entire day, and, well, that does not happen often. ;w;
> 
> I hope this chapter is alright!

**[tape recorder clicks on]**

After everything that happened today, I am glad that Cecil is not hurt. 

No, no, that is not true. “Not hurt” is a poor choice of phrasing. “Not hurt” suggests that nothing happened to him that put him in any kind of physical or mental stress, and that is not true. Scientists need to be truthful. That is one of the most vital aspects of a scientist reporting scientific information. Cecil was hurt after what happened today, but his life, overall, after today’s events, is not in any immediate danger. 

Cecil came home today with really sore joints because of all of the walk signals that were malfunctioning in Night Vale today. Instead of having the time-lapse photography of a flower wilting, indicating that it is safe to go, or a graphic photo of a run-over pedestrian, indicating that you should wait, all of the signals instead just had the word “WALK”, in thick, capital white letters. Once pedestrians saw this sign, they started walking, and they did not stop. They walked in a rigid unison throughout Night Vale, as though that was the only thing that they could do. Actually, I have a theory that maybe it was the only thing that they could do. I have, as we say in the scientific community, taken a peek, at the walk signals in Night Vale before. 

I found an old Night Vale walk signal at the pawn shop, and decided to take it apart to see if it was anything like a road signal’s interior might normally look. Instead of finding a variety of outlets for LED bulbs that light up the sign powered by electricity or some sort of really neat looking crystal, I only found a small, round object with many legs wriggling around inside of the walk signal. The legs seemed to hit different buttons that sometimes did things, and sometimes did no things whatsoever. The movement, however, was almost hypnotic. Almost. I say “almost” because the concept of hypnosis, scientifically speaking, is totally fake. What is commonly and not scientifically referred to as hypnosis is a very, very weak form of mind control, and not the kind of thing that a person can bring upon themselves through focused attention and blocking out all other senses. If hypnosis were truly voluntary, then you would not see people unable to resist the direction to walk for hours on end with no desire to stop walking. That is why so many triathlons are actually people being mind controlled by large trees that want to experience movement. Scientifically, nobody wants to do all of that physical activity in one day without stopping.

Um, um, anyways, I’m getting off-topic. I think walking was the only thing that anyone who saw the malfunctioning walk signals could do because this particular movement within the walk signals is one that had the greatest weak mind control quotient, one that I recorded to be about six and a half standard mind control millimeters more than walk signs exhibit normally. It was very difficult to get these measurements, since it required getting near a walk signal and not looking at it, which is very difficult, given how their range for subtle mind control is very wide. I wanted to tell Cecil about this, and how it would be best to avoid being near any walk signs, but...well, he had already joined the group of people marching steadily out to Route 800 by that point. A-and, well, I...I wanted to drive out and find him, but it wasn’t safe to drive with all of those people in the road.

I...was unable to do anything. And I worried, and then I felt terrified, because Cecil could be seriously hurt, and nothing could be done about that. I wanted to go out and help him, more than anything, but finding him would take a long time, and I do not know how fast my bike is compared to mind controlled biomechanics, and I also do not know how close Cecil was to getting hurt at that time, and…

And…

**[sighs]**

Well, by the time I had some idea of how I could try to save Night Vale from this impending doom by maybe doing something with all of the walk signals, the problem was resolved. 

I could not hope to explain how the whole situation was resolved better than Cecil did on air, because his way of explaining it was both scientific _ and _ journalistic. Cecil’s way of explaining things is just so wonderful. He is so thorough in how he reports things, never missing even very small details. 

Cecil is fine. He’s fine. He is alive, and I am beginning to see that in Night Vale, that is very often an indicator that the day went well. 

The whole experience with the malfunctioning walk signs left him feeling very tired, and it worried him more than he has in some time. And that is saying something, because an interdimensional portal opened up in the sky last Tuesday and rained on-fire steam engines down into various locations throughout Night Vale. After hearing him talk about the events of today, publicly, on the radio, and privately, to me, I just want to be with him and make sure he feels alright. Cecil swore he was fine, and even said he’d be willing to go on a walk if I wanted to, because, that goofball said, I can be as persuasive as hypnotic malfunctioning city equipment sometimes, as the old saying goes. 

But after hearing about today, all...all I really wanted to do was stay home with him and help his sore joints feel better, and Cecil was not opposed to that. Scientifically speaking, spending a lot of time sharing the warmth of your boyfriend is a really good way to help sore joints feel better. The heat helps relax muscles and restore blood flow and circulation, especially when the heat is coming from someone who has his head on your chest and his arms around your waist. That is just science. 

I think that living in Night Vale has a way of numbing people to very horrifying events. Impending doom is a very common occurrence here. If not daily, it happens at least four times a week, in weird time. I have, um, I have ran numbers. And...while I know that a lot of the seemingly malevolent forces in Night Vale aren’t malevolent at all, I still worry. I worry about Night Vale, and the people in it. And I especially worry about one person in Night Vale in particular. When I told Cecil how scared I was about him, he just looked at me, gently. His eyes softened. And he told me that he loved how much I cared, but that there was no need to worry as much as I did. Living in Night Vale for as long as he has, he said, means that he was probably going to continue living in it for a while. And I told him that he was, scientifically and statistically, right about that, but I love him and worry about him sometimes. 

Cecil just kissed me on the temple then, and kept his lips there for a few moments. 

He told me that he loves me too, and he worries about me, too. Worrying about someone is a part of loving them. It means you don’t want something bad to happen to them. But I do not, he said, need to worry so much that becomes something that gets in the way of my day on a routine basis, which tends to happen in a place like Night Vale. I’m fine, he said. I’m Cecil Gershwin Palmer, reporter and Night Vale citizen extraordinaire. Nothing can touch me. Well, some things can touch me, just not like, really horrible things that can end my life prematurely. That’s not even true. Anything can end my life prematurely. I just mean that like, comparatively, to other people, very few things that can end my life prematurely can touch me.

And I smiled then, because he was right, and because what he said, well, it made my feel a rush of a lot of hormones that trigger a feeling of relaxation in the body. Oxytocin and melatonin are two of them, but there are many, many others. The thing about hormones is that it is never one or two that control one bodily function. Hormones actually control a wide variety of functions and their usages across the body is incredibly diverse and built upon millions of different biochemical combinations and reactions. You can never pin an emotion down as the result of one hormone because so many hormones go into the simplest of emotions that you feel, and, ah, well, scientifically speaking, I just felt a lot of hormones triggering a feeling that felt a lot like relief. 

I do not know if I have ever mentioned this, but, um, Cecil is really cute. His adorability quotient is the highest adorability quotient that I have ever recorded on someone before. It is just outstandingly high. He may be an adorability outlier. I would need to perform a lot more experiments on Cecil’s adorability to be completely certain of this, however. A lot more. 

**[tape recorder clicks off]**

* * *

 

**[6:13 pm]**

**[tape recorder clicks on]**

Have I mentioned Cecil’s cat Khoshekh yet? I do not think I have, which is unfortunate, because Khoshekh is definitely the most scientifically fascinating cat in Night Vale, and by extension the most scientifically fascinating cat in the United States. He hovers exactly four feet off of the ground in the men’s bathroom of Cecil’s radio station, and is the proud father of a now full-grown litter of kittens that hover at varying heights around him. They are all incredibly handsome and incredibly chubby and incredibly fluffy cats. I have run a variety of tests on where Khoshekh is floating to determine how he and his kittens are able to hover in a fixed position like that, though none of the tests have proven conclusive. If you drop something right underneath Khoshekh, it falls to the ground, clearly still subject to the constant of gravitational acceleration. The fixed point Khoshekh is stuck in is I believe related to his physical being, and not the area around him. Whatever it is about him, I would never try to determine what makes him hover in that fixed point in a way that might hurt him. He is a precious baby boy, and not a test subject. Or at least, not a test subject for rigorous experimentations on his physical being. He is a test subject for average fluffiness and chubbiness, which is approximately thirty percent higher than other cats. 

I mention Khoshekh because...something happened to him today. 

Cecil’s new management brought some kind of machine into the station. Well, no, no, not a machine. Cecil said they called it a bio-machine. They called it a Strex Pet, I think. Something with the aspects of both a machine and a biological organism. This sounds very scientifically exciting, as machines and biological organisms are both incredibly scientifically fascinating and the idea of them being combined as many fascinating scientific implications! All of the ways the aspects of machines and organic biochemistry might work together is exciting to think about! But...but this bio-machine left no time for any kind of scientific observation. Instead, it attacked Cecil, and then it attacked Khoshekh. And, if Animal Control had not come in and shut it off, it might have ended up killing Khoshekh. Though he is a scientifically fascinating cat with incredibly large venom sacs and spines for a cat his age, there is little defense a floating cat has for getting attacked by what sounds like a furry machine and an animal made specifically for biting. 

Cecil called me after his broadcast was over and he told me about what happened. I...I know that he was upset, and that he was angry. I do not know what those two feelings together can be called, or how exactly you are supposed to respond to them together. It is, um, it’s like how a variety of laws exist for dynamic equilibrium, and how understanding one is one process of thinking, but understanding how they exist along the same plane as one another and influence one another is a different way of thinking entirely. Understanding how to respond to one emotion is different from how to respond to two occuring at the same time. Cecil was very sad, I know this. His precious baby boy got attacked by this thing, this Strex Pet, and was in a lot of pain. But he was very angry, too. Angry that this Strex Pet was brought into the station, and that it just went after Khoshekh like that. He said he saw it attack Khoshekh, and in that moment he kicked it and had an intern pin it down, and he wanted to get vengeance on it for daring to come into the bathroom after him and attack his cat. And then...well, and then Animal Control flipped a switch and turned it off, and he felt safe, but disappointed. Safe because the Strex Pet was gone. Disappointed because his vengeance was so short-lived. 

I...I was not sure how to respond to how he was feeling, not completely. Emotions are...difficult. But I felt terribly for him, and felt terribly in general, because poor Khoshekh was attacked by something so vicious and had no way of defending himself. That this thing that was supposed to be a pet was instead very violent and was brought into a place full of people who could get hurt by it without a second thought. It bit Cecil, and it tried to maul Khoshekh. I told Cecil all of that, and how I thought that Cecil’s new management was, well...uncaring. And I told him that wanting vengeance was something I have felt before, so I understood how he felt. And I told Cecil wanting to hurt something that hurt something you care about is a biological response that means you deeply want to protect the things you love.  

I went to the animal hospital with Cecil to wait for Khoshekh to get out of surgery, because Cecil was upset, and because I was worried about Khoshekh. Cecil told me that he was going to live, although he would live differently, but...I wanted to see him alive and know that despite everything, he would be alright. Cecil loves him, and loves him so much. And I love him, because of how unique he is, because of how cute he is. And because of how happy he makes Cecil. The way Cecil’s eyes light up when he talks about Khoshekh, the way his voice gets a little higher when he describes Khoshekh...it makes me love Cecil, and it makes me love Khoshekh. 

Cecil did not say much when we were waiting. I think I understand why. I saw where the Strex Pet sunk its teeth into his leg, and thought about how much it hurt Cecil, and how much it must have hurt Khoshekh. Pain is a very relative thing. If Cecil was in this much pain, Khoshekh must be in even more. I did not say anything to Cecil while we were waiting. Instead, I just took Cecil’s hand, and put my other hand on his knee. Cecil put his head on my shoulder, and he closed his eyes. I felt his hand shift, so that his fingers slid into mine. I squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back, and…and in that moment, I think that we said to each other everything that we were thinking.

Khoshekh has to stay at the animal hospital overnight, but we saw him as soon as he got out of surgery. He was missing a lot. There were bandages all over his body, but he was breathing. He was okay. Cecil gently reached out and put a hand on his head, and told him he was a strong baby boy, and he was going to be alright. He promised it would be alright. And he promised Khoshekh that he would float at a fixed point exactly four feet above the ground in the men’s bathroom, and Cecil would exact vengeance on whatever recipient existed for it. 

We left the animal hospital shortly after that, to let Khoshekh rest.

Cecil has been quiet most of this evening. Right now he’s doing some woodcarving, to take his mind off of today. 

I hope Khoshekh will be okay. 

I hope Cecil will be okay. 

**[tape recorder clicks off]**

**[10:37 pm]**

**[tape recorder clicks on]**

OH, oh, there is something I forgot to mention earlier this evening about the House that Doesn’t Exist, the one in the Desert Creek Development. It looks like it exists, like it’s right there when you look at it, and it’s between two other identical houses, so it would make more sense for it to be there than not, but it doesn’t actually exist. That house.

We have been carefully monitoring John Peters--you know, the farmer--who has been standing alone in the house for weeks. The house is empty, except for some photographs on the wall, of a lighthouse. We have been too scientifically cautious to open the door, but finally got up the nerve to go up to the house today. It was locked, but we shook the handle hard, then violently, and then started yelling while shaking the handle. Those of us observing John from the window saw no change in his behavior, and suddenly, the door slammed open. An elderly woman opened the door and asked us what he wanted. Dave asked about John Peters--you know, the farmer--standing in the living room. And the woman said that she lived alone, and when we looked into her house, we saw a house of the same shape and size as the one that John Peters--you know, the farmer--had been standing in. The room was full of chairs, a couch, plants, a table, and photographs of faces that looked like the face of the woman standing at the door. But none of lighthouses. Yet, Rochelle said that she could still see John standing alone in the empty room, looking at lighthouses. 

The woman said her name was Cynthia, and she had been living there for 19 years. And this was very strange, because the Desert Creek Housing Development is only three years old. 

This is concerning. 

It does not make sense. 

When something does not conform to the general standards of logic, in all likelihood, it is not real. 

We left the woman alone and went back to the lab, with even more evidence that this house does not exist. Knocking on the door of a house that is not real is one of the most definitive ways of determining how real a house is. It is incredibly dangerous, which is why it took so long to decide to finally knock on the door. 

Now that we have, we now know that the house cannot be entered and exited as easily as houses that exist. There is something about the way that it exists--or does not exist--that makes it different. There are a variety of other tests that we need to perform on the house to explain why we can see John standing in the house, alone, from a window, but not from the door. 

This is a very strange occurrence, but it is also a very exciting occurrence. The more we study this house, the less it seems terrifying, and the more it seems thrilling. Existence the most thrilling thing of all, but nonexistence is becoming more and more thrilling the more that I study it. 

**[tape recorder clicks off]**

* * *

 

**[tape recorder clicks on]**

Khoshekh is...well, he is on the mend. He is missing his right eye, his legs are still healing, but he is missing part of his front left paw. He got his feeding tube removed today, and though it was terrible seeing him so hurt it was difficult for him to eat, he is doing a little better now. He is still in pain from broken bones and severe lacerations, but...he is better than he was a few weeks ago.

He has been adjusting to not floating in a fixed point exactly four feet above the ground in the men’s bathroom at Cecil’s station. Cecil held him for the first time last week, and was able to pick him up and hug him and carry him around the house. Khoshekh has trouble walking, because of his injuries, and because he has never walked before. I am not a veterinarian, but I have been trying to help him adjust to life on the ground. When he is resting, Khoshekh occasionally gets startled by the fact that he is sleeping on solid ground. He quickly lifts his head up and looks around, his eyes wide and his whiskers flared out. He seems to get startled less of it’s on a really soft pillow, because it reminds him of the air he used to be hovering in. 

Khoshekh also is not used to having so much space around him. I think that most cats do not handle a lot of new space well, but for Khoshekh this seems even more pronounced. If Cecil picks him up and puts him somewhere, he does not move. Moving is difficult for him anyways because of his injuries, but, I have measured his position throughout the day and he does not move at all. Moving is a new experience for him, I think. When most cats see a food bowl, they will try to move towards it, but Khoshekh is not used to that. He is used to his food bowl being right next to him, on the sink, easily within reach. We have had to keep his food bowl right next to him, because of his injuries, and because he does not seem to know that a food bowl is his if it is not directly in front of him. 

He also does not seem to be too good at jumping, because he has never had to jump before, or move before. This meant that he had to be lifted in and out of his litter box and to and from the bed or the couch. It is very fascinating how animals quickly adjust to a strange life they might have. Khoshekh quickly managed to adjust to a life floating exactly four feet above the ground, and learned his limits. This made him incredibly good at being a floating cat, but not particularly good at being a normal cat.

But no pet is perfect. They become perfect when you accept them for who they are. Which is to say, perfectly imperfect. That is what Khoshekh is. 

**[chuckles]**

I remember when Cecil first introduced me to Khoshekh. That is how he introduced Khoshekh. He said no pet is perfect; they become perfect when you accept them for who they are. He was so excited to show me his cat. He really excitedly opened the door to the men’s bathroom and showed me his beautiful little buddy, who was floating exactly four feet above the ground. He told me Khoshekh just showed up one day, and has been hovering in that fixed position ever since. One of his interns set up a litter box and food dish for him so that he could eat and relieve himself comfortably, and Khoshekh seemed to be doing well. Cecil told me about how cute Khoshekh was, and how much he loved coming into the bathroom on his breaks to say hello to him. And I told Cecil that Khoshekh was, well, scientifically fascinating, and also, very adorable. Then, um, well, then Cecil asked why my eyes were so red and watery and I told him it was because of my cat allergy. Cecil was...I think upset at that, but it was hard to tell, because faces are difficult, and even more difficult with watery eyes. But I told him that I really loved cats, especially his cat, I just really needed Claritin to be around them. And then Cecil smiled, and said he could keep Claritin handy in the station if I ever wanted to visit Khoshekh again, because Khoshekh loves visitors, especially scientists.

He’s just...so sweet.

Also, I have needed a lot of Claritin lately. Khoshekh has a lot of fur. 

I think there is something about Khoshekh’s dander that makes my cat allergy even worse. It might be how his venom sacs and spines are abnormally large for a cat. But I love him very much, and love having him around in the house. He is very happy sleeping next to me and Cecil while we’re watching TV on the couch, and is even happier sleeping next to us on the bed on his own little pillow. It is also very, very nice having him on my lap when doing research at home. He’s very soft, and the feeling of his warm curled up form on my lap feels very nice. His whole body rumbles when he purrs, and it is so sweet seeing him look up at me when he wakes up from a nap, his little cat-sized eyepatch over his hurt eye, yawning and exposing his rows and rows of sharp, glowing teeth. Actually, if you look into his mouth, you can see he has a second set of jaws! He is such a neat cat! As much as I hate seeing him hurt, it is still nice having him in the house. He is a very good cat. Scientifically speaking, not only is he the most interesting cat in the United States, but also the best cat in the United States. 

But the sooner he gets back into the station’s bathroom, the better. That is the life he is used to. He also has kittens there who are wondering where their father has gone. When Cecil comes home and gives his little boy lots of kisses and gives him a gentle hug, he is so happy, and so relieved, that his cat is alive and doing well, and has made it through another day. The vet said that he would be fine, but...Khoshekh is in a lot of pain, and Cecil is still very worried about him. I am still worried about him. When he is well enough to return to his normal position in the men’s bathroom, then we will not have to worry about him making it through another day as much as we are now. 

We just want to see our little boy to be okay, and not be in pain anymore. 

Our little boy. 

**[tape recorder clicks off]**


End file.
